Nothing Without You
by CinderellaAtTheBall
Summary: A collection of unrelated drabbles written for Inktober 2019. George/Angelina. Finally complete!
1. i'd marry you with paper rings: ring

_Hello, hello! This collection is being written for the Inktober 2019 Challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. I've chosen to write about Angelina and George for the entire month. :)_

**MC4A**

**Stacked with:** Inktober 2019

**Individual Challenge(s):** In a Flash (Y); Gryffindor MC x2; Ethnic & Present (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Old Shoes; Shipmas; Themes & Things A (love)

**Representation(s):** fem character as narrator; minor character as narrator; ethnic minority as narrator

**Bonus Challenge(s):** Not a Lamp; Terse; Olivine

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s):** n/a

**Word Count:** 670

* * *

**i'd marry you with paper rings**

Angelina walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shortly after closing to find the shop completely silent. The quiet atmosphere was eerie and a bit unnerving — it was usually so noisy there.

"George?" she called out tentatively. Had he gone on an errand and forgotten to mention it to her? That seemed unlikely — he wouldn't have left the store unlocked if that were the case.

Frowning, she moved a little further into the shop, bracing herself for a possible surprise ambush. It would be just like George to do that to her — pretend he wasn't around and then jump out at her when she least expected it.

The displays cast spooky shadows, and she shivered slightly.

"Pull yourself together," she told herself sternly. "If anyone _does_ jump out at you, you'll only be scared for a second and then you'll get over it."

A sudden whirring noise came from up above and she looked up, listening closely. The sound seemed to be emanating from the upstairs flat. Perhaps George was in there?

Heart pounding a little faster, Angelina walked over to the stairs and headed towards the door at the top. She stopped for a moment to listen again. A beeping of some sort had joined the whirring by this time.

After digging around in her pocket, she found the spare key George had given her and inserted it into the lock.

Inside, the flat looked much the same as it usually did — a bit neater than usual, but otherwise normal.

"George?" Angelina asked again.

The whirring noise grew louder. She looked towards the sound and realized it was coming from a little flying frisbee — similar to a Fanged Frisbee but without the teeth, and seemingly flying of its own accord. A piece of paper fluttered on a piece of string behind it.

Angelina waited until the frisbee was low enough for her to reach out and snatch the paper. She smiled as she read its contents.

_Will you marry me, Angie?_

She knew her answer, but now her forehead creased. Was she supposed to write her reply on the paper, or say her answer out loud?

The beeping noise that she had heard earlier sounded again, and Angelina ducked to avoid colliding with an enchanted Quaffle. The beeping, she reasoned, was to warn her of its presence.

She grinned and swept the ball into her arms. George had attached another piece of paper to it, this time with the options _Yes_ and _Hell Yes_. She laughed and conjured up a quill, which she used to circle both answers. The Quaffle zoomed off with her reply, and she decided to follow it.

It flew into George's bedroom door with a thud. She could hear George scrambling around inside. A moment later, the door opened.

"Bloody Quaffle," the redhead muttered, leaning over to pick up the scarlet ball.

"My answer is yes, dummy," Angelina told him. He started, clearing not expecting to see her there.

"Your—" George's face broke into a huge grin, and he pulled her in for a tight hug. She felt the tension leave his body, and wondered just how long he had been waiting, worrying. "Merlin, I love you."

"As if I'd have said anything else," she teased, "but I love you too."

George released her and produced a ring box from his pocket. "This hasn't exactly gone the way that I'd planned, but what the hell. I believe this is for you."

The box held a beautiful diamond ring. Angelina gasped and held out her finger, savoring the moment when George slid the band onto it. When he was finished, she kissed him, hard.

"It's beautiful, George," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I wasn't even expecting—you didn't have to buy me such a nice ring."

George gave her a wounded look. "You deserve the best, Angie."

"This could have been a paper ring and I still would have said yes," she responded, kissing him again. "That's how much I love you."

* * *

_A/N: pure sappiness, but I'd expect nothing less from me. Inspired by "Paper Rings," by Taylor Swift._


	2. Mindless Love: mindless

**MC4A**

**Stacked with:** Inktober 2019

**Individual Challenge(s):** In a Flash (N); Gryffindor MC x2; Ethnic & Present (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Old Shoes

**Representation(s):** fem character as narrator; minor character as narrator; ethnic minority as narrator

**Bonus Challenge(s):** Not a Lamp; Terse; Olivine

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s):** n/a

**Word Count:** 302

* * *

**Mindless Love**

She liked that she didn't have to think when she was with him. Things were just...easy. He accepted that she was a little bit broken, and she accepted that he was a little bit broken too. With him, she wasn't just the girl who had lost one of her best friends. She was the competitive Quidditch player and playful friend, until something changed and they weren't quite friends anymore.

The first time they talked about his twin brother, really _talked_ about him, she broke down and cried. He cried too, and they held each other without saying anything more the rest of the evening. She fell asleep in his arms, and it was the best sleep she had gotten in a long time.

The first time they kissed was electric, but also familiar, like she had been waiting for it all her life. It was gentle, yet passionate, and she wished it could have lasted forever. Every kiss that followed (there were many) made her feel much the same way.

The first time she said "I love you," she didn't ruminate on how it might change things. Instead, she surrendered her heart to him, knowing that he would never break it. He said it back, devotion coloring every word, and she would have believed him even if she hadn't seen the affection in his eyes.

To her, this love was mindless, but not in a negative way. It was mindless in the way that she could reach for him and always find him there. It was mindless in the way that she could count on him to cheer her up when she was having a bad day. And best of all, it was mindless in the way that she could love without abandon, and be loved the same way in return.

* * *

_A/N: I struggled a lot with the prompt "mindless" which is why this is late and really short. I was also trying to complete a prompt in which I had to not use any character names, which was really difficult as well! :P_


	3. Poolside Attraction: bait

_This is a Lifeguard!AU (I have no idea if that's a thing, but it is now)._

For Care of Magical Creatures Class at The Golden Snitch Forum (Beauxbatons, Guinefort): 30. Giant Squid - write about swimming, water, or the lake.

**MC4A**

**Challenge:** In a Jog (N); Gryffindor MC x3 (N); Ethnic & Present (N); Summer Vacation (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Old Shoes (N); Shipmas (N); Black Ribbon (Y); Black Ribbon Redux

**Word Count:** 1,168

* * *

**Poolside Attraction**

Angelina glanced over at the cute, redheaded lifeguard and shifted ever so slightly in her pool chair. She hoped that her new position would catch the boy's eye, though truth be told, she was a bit bummed that her swimsuit wasn't doing the trick all by itself. She was wearing a metallic gold bikini that set off her mahogany skin nicely. It had charmed plenty of other boys, but _this_ particular boy either hadn't noticed or didn't care.

Alicia, who was tanning herself next to Angelina, lowered her bright, candy red sunglasses. "Still trying to catch Red's eye?"

Angelina nodded. "I feel all exposed here, like I'm a piece of bait, and he still isn't biting!"

Alicia clucked sympathetically. "Maybe you should go over there and talk to him, Angie."

Angelina sighed. Normally, she didn't have a problem approaching boys. She could banter with the best of them, and often beat them in sports. But she didn't want to seem _desperate_ and scare this one off.

"I think I'll just try and take a nap instead," she told her friend.

"You know what?" Alicia said suddenly. "I just had a very clever idea."

Angelina stifled a groan. She loved Alicia, but the girl didn't always have the most common sense. Her "idea" was probably dangerous, or idiotic, or both.

"Yeah?" she asked. "What is it, then?"

Alicia jumped to her feet, and, before Angelina could do more than stare, had jumped into the pool. After a moment, she began to thrash about.

"Help!" she screamed dramatically. "Someone, help!"

Alicia continued to wail and writhe while Angelina stood by, mortified.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You know how to swim!"

"Hang on!" a voice yelled.

Seconds later, the lifeguard she had been eyeing all afternoon brushed past her and dove into the water. He grabbed Alicia's arm and started talking to her in a low, soothing voice as he helped her keep her head above water. Angelina made out a few snippets: "going to be okay," "relax," "help you."

Angelina finally thought she understood what her friend was trying to do, although she still didn't know _why_. As the lifeguard pulled Alicia back onto dry land (the latter sputtering and coughing a little _too_ hard), Angelina rushed over, looking worried. It wasn't too difficult to do considering she really _was_ worried.

"Oh my God, Alicia!" she cried, sidestepping a puddle to crouch next to her "Are you okay?"

"Um, what year is this?" Alicia asked, looking dazed. Angelina had to hand it to her - the girl was a fantastic actress.

The lifeguard was looking at Alicia with obvious concern. "Maybe I should get her checked out."

"What have you done to me?" Alicia moaned, holding her head. Angelina tried to nudge her friend without the redhead seeing. Alicia was _definitely_ overdoing it now.

"Knock it off," she mouthed. Alicia nodded and immediately sat up a little straighter.

"Do you know, I think I'm all better now," she announced.

The lifeguard gave her a skeptical look. "That was a fast recovery."

"Yes, well, I'm normally a very good swimmer. I just got hit with a...with a cramp. Probably overreacted a little." Alicia looked so contrite that Angelina would have believed her if she hadn't known that she was up to something. "Thank you so much, though...sorry, what was your name?"

"George," the boy said, holding out his hand.

"I'm Alicia," she said, then gestured to Angelina. "And _this_ is Angie."

Alicia's triumphant expression made it clear to Angelina that she had been trying to maneuver an introduction all along. Angelina might have been grateful if it weren't for the fact that it could have gone disastrously wrong.

George smiled at Angelina and held his hand out to her as well. "Nice to meet you, Angie."

Angelina shook his hand, which was calloused and warm. He had the most amazing blue eyes, and she felt as though she could lose herself in them for hours. "Nice to meet you too, George."

George held on a fraction of a second too long before turning back to Alicia with a frown. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"I couldn't be more sure!" she said cheerfully. When George wasn't looking, she winked at Angelina. Angelina glared back.

"Well, ladies, I've got to get back to my post," George said, sounded rather apologetic. "Take it easy, Alicia."

"I will," she said, nodding vigorously.

George didn't leave right away, however. He shot Angelina a significant look and added, "I'll be off in an hour."

"Guess I'll see you then," she grinned.

"Can't wait," he grinned back.

She made sure he was well out of earshot before rounding on Alicia.

"You're an idiot. What the hell was that?" she half-whispered, half-shouted.

"I was helping you out!" Alicia retorted. "It was really quite the ideal plan, if I do say so myself."

"Ideal? Do you even bother to think at all? What if you'd _actually_ drowned? How would _that_ have helped me? The death of my friend is not ideal!" Angelina said through clenched teeth.

"I got you an introduction, didn't I?" Alicia tossed her hair. "Relax, Angie. There's no way I would have drowned. I was _pretending_."

Angelina remained convinced that something could have gone wrong, and refused to speak to her friend for the next hour. When she saw George descend from his lifeguard chair, she hurried over to him, relieved to get away from Alicia's reproachful looks.

"Hey you," she said, tucking a braid behind her ear.

"Hey," he echoed. "Is your friend doing alright?"

Angelina tried not to let her annoyance show. "Yeah, she's fine. She just, erm, had a cramp, like she said. All good now."

George glanced over at Alicia as though hoping to confirm this information for himself. "Glad to hear it."

"Yeah." Angelina stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out her next move. "Are you—"

"I'm here every day this week except Tuesday," he interrupted, flashing her a cheeky smile.

"That isn't what I was about to ask," she scoffed, crossing her arms.

He shrugged. "Just letting you know my availability. You know, for when you realize that I'm irresistible and can't get enough of me."

Angelina snorted. "Don't flatter yourself." She would never admit that he had hit a little closer to the truth than she would have liked.

"So you haven't been checking me out all afternoon?" he smirked.

She gaped at him. He had to be bluffing. There was no way she had been _that_ obvious.

"Don't worry, you weren't obvious or anything," he said, as if he had just read her thoughts. "It's just hard not to notice a girl like you."

Angelina felt her face grow pink. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been watching me try and get your attention all afternoon?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I guess this is the part where I ask you out, huh?"

She smacked his arm playfully. "I'd say that's the _least_ you can do."


	4. Charms Partners: freeze

**MC4A**

**Challenge: **In a Flash (N); Gryffindor MC x2; Ethnic & Present (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Old Shoes; Black Ribbon; Black Ribbon Redux

**Fall Bingo: **B2 (school)

**Word count: **750

* * *

**Charms Partners**

"All right, class, today we will be practising the Freezing Charm, _Immobulus_," Professor Flitwick announced. He proceeded to demonstrate the wand movement several times, exaggerating the motions. Finally, he took a live mouse, flicked his wand the way that he had shown them, and cried, "_Immobulus_!" The mouse froze in its place, and the class applauded politely.

"Very well," he squeaked, "please split up into pairs to practice on these mice."

George turned to Fred and found that his twin had already partnered up with Lee Jordan. He sighed and looked around.

"Still need a partner, Weasley?" said a loud voice to his right. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Angelina Johnson, a fellow second-year Gryffindor. He didn't know her very well, but she seemed nice enough. He supposed she would have to do.

"Yeah. And I'm George, in case you couldn't tell," he replied.

She looked from him to Fred and back again before dropping into the chair beside him. "Right. Well, I'm sure I'll be able to tell you apart one of these days."

He shrugged. If even his own mother couldn't always tell them apart, he doubted this girl could. But he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the mouse Professor Flitwick had just dropped onto their desk. "Ladies first."

She scowled and crossed her arms. "That's all right, you can go first."

"I don't want to," George huffed. "Anyway, you're a girl, you're supposed to go first. That's what my mum taught me."

"Well, I think that's rubbish," Angelina said, sticking her nose in the air. George was beginning to feel rather annoyed with her. She seemed snobby and obnoxious.

Thankfully, Fred took that moment to lean over and whisper, "Oi, George, I reckon we should get some flying in tonight, what with trials coming up soon."

Angelina looked over at him sharply. "Trials? Are you two going out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

Fred nodded and stuck out his chest. "George and I want to be Beaters," he boasted.

Angelina eyed him critically. "I suppose you've got the build for it," she conceded. "I'm going out for Chaser, I think I'll be—"

"Miss Johnson, Mr. Weasley, how are you getting on?" Professor Flitwick asked, hurrying over to them.

"Fine," Angelina said hastily. She raised her wand and performed the spell. The mouse turned into a pile of sand.

"A little more conviction next time, perhaps, Miss Johnson," the little wizard said, restoring the mouse with a wave of his wand. He turned to George. "Mr. Weasley, if you please."

George cleared his throat. "Erm..._Immobulus_!"

The mouse's tail fell off, causing his partner to shoot him a disgusted look. Professor Flitwick didn't look too impressed with him, either.

"Mr. Weasley," he said disapprovingly, "you must not handle your wand so callously. The movement, as I showed you, is very precise. Your homework is to practice it with Miss Johnson."

George almost fell over in disbelief. Where was the justice in this world? The last thing he wanted was to spend _more_ time with Angelina. By the expression on her face, she wasn't exactly thrilled about it either.

"But, Professor," she began.

"I don't want to hear another word, Miss Johnson," he said severely. As soon as he had moved on to watch Fred and Lee, George let out a groan.

"Great," he muttered. Angelina was staring at him. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," she said slowly. "It's just...Alicia wants to go out for the team, too, and I was wondering if maybe you and Fred would be willing to practice with us?"

George looked over at Alicia, who was seated a few tables over. She giggled and gave him a little wave. He blushed slightly and turned back to Angelina. "Yeah, I guess we could do that."

"Really?" she said eagerly. "Everyone else we've asked has just laughed at us." She jutted out her chin. "We'll see who's laughing after we make the team and they don't."

George looked appraisingly at her. Perhaps he had misjudged her. She was tough, and confident, and he found himself thinking that if he and Fred made the team, she would be a good teammate to have. In the meantime, maybe they could at least be friends.

"Johnson," he said solemnly, "it would be an honor."

She burst out laughing, and he quickly joined in. "You know, you're all right, Weasley," she said with a smile.

"You're all right too," he grinned.


	5. Snowy Day Fun: build

**MC4A**

**Challenge: **In a Flash (N); Gryffindor MC x2; Ethnic & Present (N); Winter Wonderland (N); Rian-Russo Inversion (N); Old Shoes; Black Ribbon; Black Ribbon Redux

**Fall Bingo: **B5 (hot chocolate)

**Word count: **422

* * *

**Snowy Day Fun**

"Looks like there's enough snow out there to build a snowman," George said, peering out the window. As far as the eye could see, there were pristine, white drifts. The snow sparkled where the sunlight hit the individual crystals. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say that you want to build a snowman, George?"

George grinned. "I'm saying that I wouldn't be averse to it."

To his delight, Angelina agreed to make one with him. After bundling up in woolen jumpers, scarves, and gloves (all courtesy of his mum), they trundled outside, where the glacial air nipped at their exposed cheeks and reddened them.

"Brrr," Angelina shivered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her down jacket. "Maybe we should make this quick."

George wiggled his toes inside of his snow boots. He was having trouble feeling them, or any of his other extremities, for that matter. "Great idea."

They made a good team, working together to roll the snowballs that would become the base, torso, and head of the snowman. Before long, they had a body, and George applauded their accomplishment.

"We're practically finished," he said happily. "Now, we just need to decorate him."

"Or her," Angelina pointed out.

"Or her," George agreed. He conjured up two pieces of black coal for eyes while Angelina ran inside to grab a bright orange carrot to be its nose.

Together, they searched for twigs big enough to be the arms, but it was difficult since the snow had blanketed just about everything. They ended up pulling branches from a nearby tree instead.

"I'm sure they won't be missed," George reasoned.

Angelina put her hands on her hips and surveyed their creation. "Looks good, but I think it's missing a little something..." She pulled off her mauve scarf and placed it around the snowman's neck. "They were naked! Now they've at least got a scarf to wear."

"Perfect," George told her, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "Now, what do you say we go inside and warm up?"

"That sounds wonderful," she said. "Last one in has to make the hot chocolate!" And with that, she ran off towards the front door.

"No fair!" George shouted, running after her.

He ended up losing, but he didn't care — hearing her delighted laugh as she headed for the sitting room and being graced by her radiant smile as he presented her with her powder blue mug was enough to warm him a thousand times over.


	6. Dog For a Day: husky

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments - Term 11, Assignment 6: __**Mundane Literature, Task #11: write about someone being trapped inside something.**_

* * *

**Dog for a Day**

"Er, George? Why is there a husky in your flat?" Angelina asked. She looked quizzically at the grey and white dog that was wagging its tail and barking excitedly.

George raked a hand through his hair and grimaced. "It's a long story," he mumbled.

Angelina put her hands on her hips and did her best to emulate Mrs. Weasley. "It can't be _that_ long. What is going on? And where's Fred, anyway?"

George tried — and failed — to look innocent. "Joke item gone amuck?"

"Amuck! Amuck! Amuck!" the dog seemed to echo.

"George Fabian Weasley," Angelina said loudly, "if you don't tell me what _exactly_ is going on _right this instant_, I will call your mother!"

At that, George's face lost most of its color. "All right, Angie, I'll tell you!" He gulped. "Just please don't call Mum. She'll go spare."

Angelina sighed. She didn't want to deal with an irate Mrs. Weasley any more than George did. "Fine, I won't call her. But for the last time, _what_ is going on?"

...

"So let me get this straight: the two of you were messing around with one of your new products, and now Fred is...a _dog_?" Angelina let out a groan. "Oh, Merlin, you've really done it this time."

George nodded grimly. "Afraid so. I haven't got a clue how to turn him back, either."

At this, the husky let out a sad whimper, and Angelina felt her irritation melt away a little.

"All right," she said tiredly, "I guess we'd better figure something out, then."

She couldn't resist adding, "He makes a cute dog, though."

Husky-Fred glared at her.

...

"George!" Angelina scolded, having returned to find George feeding Husky-Fred pieces of toast with jam. "You're supposed to be helping me free your brother, not stuffing him with food!"

"I know," George said quickly, "but I've done all I can, and nothing seems to work!"

He began to rattle off a list of the things he had tried. Angelina held up a hand to stop him.

"Look, I've just sent an owl to Professor McGonagall to see if she might—" She stopped and stared at Husky-Fred. Around his neck was a royal blue collar that hadn't been there before. "Did you put a _collar_ on him?"

George shrugged. "I was bored, and it matched his eyes so nicely..."

Angelina fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Fantastic. Very helpful. Thank you, George."

...

"We've got a real problem here, Angie," George told her later that day.

She looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'we'? I didn't create this mess."

"Nevertheless, there's a bit of a snag that's come up," George said, more solemn than she had ever heard him.

"What is it, then?" she asked, rubbing her temples. She wasn't sure how this catastrophe could get any worse.

"Mum invited us over for dinner and there's no way in hell we can bring Fred like—like _this_," he moaned.

Husky-Fred bounded over to Angelina and gave her a truly piteous look.

"All right," she sighed. "I haven't heard from Professor McGonagall, so I guess we'll have to involve someone else."

...

"When you said you needed my help, this isn't exactly what I'd had in mind," Hermione said, absentmindedly stroking Husky-Fred's head.

"I know it's a bit...well, last-minute, but we really need your help to change him back. Mum wants us over for dinner and if she sees Fred like this, she'll lose it for sure," George said.

Hermione nodded. "I'll see what I can do. You said this was the result of a potion embedded in a Danish pastry?"

"That's right," Angelina confirmed, suppressing a smile at how much Husky-Fred was enjoying Hermione's touch.

"And what time does your mum want you over for dinner?" Hermione asked George.

"Around seven," he replied.

Hermione consulted the funky lime green cuckoo clock on the wall. It was nearly two o'clock. "I haven't got much time. I'd better get started."

...

Three and a half hours later, Hermione summoned George and Angelina back to the flat. She had set up a workstation in the kitchen, complete with a portable cauldron which fit perfectly on the stove.

"I've brewed an antidote based on the ingredients that were in the potion he consumed," she said, nodding at Husky-Fred.

George hugged her. "You're a lifesaver, Hermione."

"So I've been told," she said with a smile.

"Shall we see if it works, then?" Angelina asked, sending up a silent prayer.

Hermione ladled some of the pale violet potion into a bowl and placed it on the floor. Husky-Fred threw himself at it and began to lap it up earnestly.

Moments later, Human-Fred sat before them on the floor, looking none the worse for wear.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting experience," he declared, clambering to his feet.

George immediately launched into a series of questions about what life had been like as a dog. Hermione rolled her eyes and began to pack up her supplies.

Angelina handed the other witch a vial and flashed her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

...

"So how does it feel to have your twin back?" Angelina asked under her breath.

Dinner had been cleared away, and she and George were snuggling on a loveseat in the sitting room of the Burrow. Around them, other members of the Weasley clan were lounging around on various pieces of furniture as well.

"It feels great," George grinned. He pulled a bag of pastries from the pocket of his robes. "Danish, anyone?"

Angelina didn't make the connection at first, but then—

"George!" she shrieked. She tried to slap the dessert out of his younger brother's hand. "Don't eat that, Ron!"

Her warning was too late. Ron had already taken a bite, and was beginning to sprout fur before her very eyes.

"Serves him right for trying to knick some of our Decoy Detonators the other day," Fred smirked.

"No one will even miss him, Angie, don't worry," George added.

Angelina shook her head. "You two are awful."

* * *

Word count: 1,003


	7. Under His Spell: enchanted

**Under His Spell**

Angelina couldn't take her eyes off George Weasley...which was a problem because she was attending the Yule Ball with his brother.

It wasn't even like George was more handsome than Fred, a fact that she kept reminding herself of as she forced herself to laugh at Fred's jokes. It was just that he understood her a lot better than Fred did. Sure, Fred was fun — always the life of the party — but George was a little more sensitive. Fred tended to give as good as he got without any regard for the other person's feelings, and Angelina had ended up almost in tears several times because of it. George knew when to quit, and was always there with a comforting hug and listening ear whenever his twin went too far.

"And then I said, 'Fancy seeing you here!'" Fred finished the end of some story she had barely been listening to and laughed uproariously. She cracked an obligatory smile.

"That's so funny, Fred," she repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

He peered at her. "You all right? You seem a bit off tonight."

Yeah, now he notices, she thought bitterly. Aloud, she said, "I'm fine. Where's your brother?"

Fred snorted. "Ron's over there, being a sorry excuse for a date." He pointed out the youngest Weasley brother, who was indeed on the edge of the dance floor, ignoring his date. Angelina's heart went out to the poor girl. She knew how she felt — her date wasn't exactly being attentive either.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "I meant your twin brother."

"Oh, he's..." Fred scanned the dance floor quickly. "Ah, there he is!"

Angelina had already known that, of course, but she wasn't about to tell Fred as much. No, she had already spent a fair amount of time watching George whirl away the evening with one Alicia Spinnet, which, if she was being honest, was tearing her up inside.

"I'm going to get us some drinks," she said, ripping her gaze away from the happy dancing couple. "Any requests?"

"Yeah, a butterbeer would be fine," Fred replied.

As Angelina passed close to where George and Alicia were dancing, she caught her friend's eye and jerked her head infinitesimally towards the drinks table. Alicia understood the signal immediately, and said something to George before making her way over to Angelina.

"What's going on, Angie?" she asked breathlessly, smoothing down her peach-colored gown.

Angelina grabbed two bottles of butterbeer and handed one to her friend. "Maybe you should drink some of this first."

She paused, realizing that she hadn't really thought this through. There didn't seem to be a way to say what she wanted to say without feeling like she was committing an awful betrayal. To fill the awkward silence between them, she opened her drink and took a long pull. Then another.

Alicia tilted her head, her brow creasing. "Is...everything all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," Angelina said wearily. "It's probably better if you just forget I ever said anything."

"C'mon, Angie, you know you can tell me anything," Alicia said, taking a sip from her own bottle. "No judgements."

Angelina glanced over at George, who had fallen into conversation with Lee Jordan. "It's about George," she said at last. "I...I think he's really...a—a great friend."

Alicia raised a single brow. "Really? That's all you wanted to say?"

Angelina squirmed under her friend's keen gaze. Alicia was _too_ sharp sometimes. "I guess I...kind of wish George had asked me to the ball," she said quickly.

"You..." Alicia suddenly let out a squeal. "I knew it! You fancy George!"

Angelina felt her cheeks redden. "Geez, Leesh, let everyone know, why don't you?"

"Merlin, have you been burning with jealousy all night, then?" her friend asked, pity leaking into her tone.

Angelina nodded and hid her face. "I've been _so_ jealous," she admitted. "Fred's funny and all, but he isn't George. Leesh, I've never felt like this before. He's got me all...wonderstruck."

"Maybe you should just go over there and tell him how you feel," Alicia said, patting her arm. "George and I are just friends, I swear. You should go for it, Angie."

Angelina shook her head. "Nope. A whole world of nope. I'd rather...play Quidditch naked!"

"Don't be dramatic," Alicia sniffed. "That's my job."

Angelina giggled unwittingly. "Shut up."

...

Alicia had somehow managed to distract Fred so that Angelina could talk to George. Now, Angelina stood before him, feeling more awkward than she ever had around him. Normally, things between them were so easy. Now, she felt like she could cut the tension with a knife.

"So, Alicia said you wanted to tell me something?" he finally asked.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but George's smile seemed a little forced. Her heart sank. He didn't even want to be talking to her right now. He was probably wondering where the hell Alicia was and when she would be getting back.

Angelina shook her head. "Did she say that?" She choked out a laugh. "I really don't know how she got that idea into her head."

"You don't?" Blue eyes searched her brown ones, and she felt her resolve start to crumble. She couldn't keep up the lie forever. It would kill her.

"George," she began, "I...I know I came to this thing with Fred, but this whole night I've just—just been wishing I'd come with you instead."

A long moment passed. George didn't say anything. He didn't even look shocked, or upset, which was the most confusing thing of all. He just stood there, looking incredibly handsome despite the shabbiness and ill fit of his dress robes.

"George. Say something. _Please_," she begged. Her eyes filled with tears. If she had lost one of her closest friends due to her own actions...she didn't know what she would do. She would just have to tell him she didn't mean it, that it was all meant to be a practical joke. "George, I—"

"Merlin, Angie, I thought you were smart," he interrupted, his mouth twisting up into a grin.

"What? I don't—"

"I wish I'd had the guts to ask you before Fred did," he confessed.

Angelina's jaw dropped, even as her spirits soared. "But—"

"But Fred got to you first, and who was I to try and talk him out of it? He was so excited to go with you," George said softly.

Angelina frowned. "Wait, do you mean to say that Fred fancies me too?"

George nodded.

"Oh, Merlin," Angelina sighed. "I feel horrible for saying yes, then. I thought he was asking me as a friend! His delivery was so casual!"

"It was, but," George shrugged, "that's Fred for you."

"How would you have done it?" she asked suddenly. Upon seeing George's confused look, she clarified, "How would you have asked me to the ball?"

"I would have spelled out 'Yule Ball?' with flower petals on the Quidditch pitch," George answered immediately. "That way it would be semi-private and incorporate something we both love."

"That's so sweet." Angelina's eyes were watering again, but for a different reason this time.

"Yeah." George smiled sadly at her. "Never got the chance, though."

"Right. Well, it seems like I may have to explain a few things to Fred," Angelina huffed. "Like how to _seriously_ ask a girl to a dance if he fancies her."

George laughed. "That would probably be a good idea."

The pair stood in silence for a few moments. Angelina tried to think of something to say. It wasn't until The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune that she figured it out. "Would you care to dance with me, George Weasley?"

"I would love to, Angelina Johnson," he replied. He bowed dramatically before leading her onto the dance floor.

They only danced for one song, because Angelina knew that Alicia couldn't occupy Fred's attention forever. She wanted to tell him about George and herself before he found out another way. Though he hadn't exactly had the decency to make his own feelings known, she wasn't going to do the same to him.

Still, for that one song, Angelina was completely and utterly under George's spell. Never had she been so taken with anyone, and though she was young, she felt certain that she would never again feel so enchanted by anyone else.

* * *

Word count: 1,401

_A/N: the ending could have been a bit better, but I'm trying to keep up with this challenge as best I can. Also, some inspiration taken from "Enchanted," (another Taylor Swift song) because that's the first thing that popped into my head when I saw the prompt. _


	8. Unexpected But Perfect: frail

_Inspired by fanart that the lovely Angel made for me! :)_

* * *

**Unexpected But Perfect**

"Angie, love, tonight is date night, five o'clock," George told his wife one morning before work. "Don't forget."

Angelina smiled and kissed his cheek. "Oh, that's right. I can't wait!"

He pulled her in for a longer kiss, which she broke by telling him that he needed to hurry or else he'd be late.

"We live above my place of employment," he laughed.

"I know, but I want to start getting ready for tonight," she winked.

He couldn't argue with that.

...

Unbeknownst to Angelina, George was not actually planning on getting much work done that day. He had given Verity and Ron strict instructions on running the shop, and he trusted that they would follow them (or rather, he trusted that Verity would keep Ron in line).

He headed to one of the back rooms of the store and set to work.

...

Angelina smoothed down her black dress and slowly turned in front of the mirror, taking in every inch of her appearance. She didn't know where George was taking her, so she wanted to look sophisticated enough for a nice restaurant, but not so overdressed that she wouldn't have a good time. This dress was one of his favorites, and she loved wearing it for him.

She couldn't wait for George to "return home" and take her out.

...

George climbed the stairs to the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at five minutes to five. As far as he could tell, Verity and Ron had managed not to blow anything (or anything) up, and Angelina would hopefully be ready and waiting for him.

He couldn't wait for her to see his surprise.

...

"George!" Angelina rushed over and kissed him. "How was work?"

"It was great," he said, grinning slyly. "But it just got even better. Look at you, Mrs. Weasley."

She did a small twirl. "Why, thank you, Mr. Weasley. You look quite good yourself."

George had donned a charcoal suit for the occasion, and Angelina couldn't keep her eyes off him.

He held out his arm. "Are you ready, love?"

She slipped her arm through his. "I am."

...

George Apparated them to the back room that he had spent most of the day in. Despite having magic at his disposal, he hadn't wanted to use it, preferring to create his romantic wonderland with his own two hands.

Inside the little-used room, he had draped blankets from the ceiling (the one place he had used magic, because he couldn't think of another way to hang them) to create a sort of tent. Strings of lights and candles provided a soft glow, and pillows had been arranged under the blankets as seating. Two plates heaped with food sat off to the side, waiting to be devoured, and two wine glasses waited to be filled.

Angelina clapped her hands over her mouth. "George..." She seemed to realize her voice was slightly muffled and slowly lowered her hands. "This looks amazing."

George smiled at her. "Thanks. Did it all myself, no magic. Took ages, but I think it turned out alright."

"I'd say it turned out more than alright!" She looked around the room again, then down at her dress. "I feel so silly now, though. I assumed you were taking me to a restaurant—not that I'm complaining! This is way better. I love it."

"Really? I thought you knew to expect the unexpected when it came to me," George teased.

"I guess I'll never learn," she laughed. Her expression grew somber. "I love you, George."

"And I love you, Angelina," he said, cupping her face with his hands. "I'll love you til we're old and frail."

"I'm not sure that's long enough," she whispered, trying and failing to remain serious.

"Fine," he whispered back, chuckling. "I'll love you for all eternity."

"That's more like it," she murmured, and the kiss that followed felt sweeter than any they had shared before.

* * *

Word count: 648


	9. Same Old Fights: pattern

_Please ignore the fact that I clearly tried to cram the prompt into this after the fact because I couldn't think of anything else. :P_

_Also, I don't know if this needs warnings but it's...pretty sad._

* * *

**Same Old Fights**

Angelina crawls around on her hands and knees, looking for the photograph she lost. It's hard, seeing as she's very pregnant, but she has to find that picture. She _has_ to.

"Angie?" George calls. She straightens quickly and tries to look nonchalant as her husband hurries into the bedroom. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you."

Angelina pushes her hair out of her face. "What for?" Her eyes drop to his hand. He's holding a photograph.

Oh, bugger.

"I—I found this in your laundry," he says, holding it out to her. She nods, her throat dry, but she can't bring herself to take it from him even though she was just frantically searching for it. In fact, her arm suddenly feels very heavy. George sinks onto the bed and gestures to her to sit down beside him. "Angie, I..."

"Don't, George," Angelina pleads. "Don't read into this, please. I just carry it around because it's like having a piece of him with me. That's all."

A shadow crosses George's face. "I know I wasn't your first choice—"

"Merlin, George, I can't keep doing this with you," Angie whispers, pressing her palms against her eyes. These conversations are becoming a pattern, and she hates it. "I loved Fred, but I love you too. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"It wouldn't be so hard if you didn't keep throwing what you had with him in my face!" George thrusts the photograph at her, and she automatically reaches out to prevent it from hitting the floor. Its edges are creased from all the times she's admired the young man in it.

"How am I—the picture was in my pocket, George! I was hardly throwing anything in your face!" Angelina takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself the way Katie taught her. "I don't feel as though I have ever flaunted my relationship with Fred in front of you, but...I'm sorry if you feel as though I have."

George sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "It's just...carrying his picture around? That makes me feel like you're still not over him, Angie."

"Of course I'm not 'over him,'" Angelina scoffs, tucking the photograph into the pocket of her robes. "He _died_, George! In what should have been the prime of his life! I will _never_ be over what happened to him!"

She begins to sob in earnest. That's a pattern, too — a new one. She never used to cry this much.

George tentatively puts an arm around her. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just hard for me to think that—that if he hadn't died, you two might still be together."

"Oh, George," Angelina chokes out, "you can't torture yourself that way. You _can't_."

"I can't help it," George says, his voice breaking. "The doubt is there everyday when I wake up and it stays with me until I fall asleep. The only time I have any respite is when I'm sleeping!"

Angelina turns to him with some difficulty and cups his face in her hands. "I love you, George. It kills me that you're doubting this. Doubting _us. Again._ Please tell me how I can help."

"I don't think there's anything you can do, Angie." George's voice is faint. "I think this is something I have to work out myself."

Angelina leans forward and presses her forehead against his. "I meant every word I said at our wedding. I would choose you a thousand times over if I had the chance."

"But, Fred—"

"I'll never know what would have happened between Fred and me," she says, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "But I don't think about that too much. Mostly, I look at that picture to remind myself of the good times — of the jokes you two roped me into helping you with, of Quidditch practice, of spending time at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes — those memories aren't gone just because he is."

Her husband is quiet for a long moment. "You're right," he says at last. "I know you're right, but I just can't stop thinking—"

"You can, George," she whispers fiercely. "You have to. This stress isn't good for me, and it isn't good for the baby, either."

George looks down at her stomach as if only just remembering that she's pregnant. His face breaks into a smile, and his palpable joy is so infectious that she begins to smile, too.

"I'll try," he says. His voice grows in strength as he continues. "I can't promise that I'll be perfect all the time, but I will try as hard as I can. You deserve my best. Both of you do."

He strokes Angelina's stomach gently, and she places her own hand atop his. "As long as you're trying, that's all that matters."

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too," she murmurs back, grateful that the fight is over. For now.

That's the thing about patterns, though — they repeat and repeat and repeat, and sometimes breaking them is easier said than done.

* * *

Word count: 851


	10. Snow Day Compromises: snow

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo: **D1 (frost)

**Word count: **408

* * *

**Snow Day Compromises**

The snow was falling hard and fast, and the ground was quickly being covered in white flakes. George was a captive audience with his nose pressed up to the window and his eyes wide. It was as though he had never seen snow before, and it made Angelina smile to herself. He really was like an overgrown kid sometimes.

"Look at all the snow, Angie!" he said excitedly, waving her over.

"I see it, George," she chuckled, not bothering to move from her spot on the bed. "It looks very pretty, but I'm quite content to stay inside today."

To demonstrate her point, she grabbed the biography of Romanian Quidditch player Ivan Popa from the bedside table and burrowed deeper under the covers.

George pouted. "You're no fun."

"I just want to stay warm!" she said indignantly, opening up the book. She tried to focus on the words on the page, to no avail — her boyfriend was intent on continuing his crusade.

"But it's the first snowfall of the year!" He threw an orange mitten at her. She saw it coming out of the corner of her eye and caught it with ease.

"George Weasley, do _not_ throw things at me," she huffed, tossing the mitten back.

"Just keeping up those fantastic reflexes, love," he said innocently.

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes and turned the page, hoping that George would get the message and stop talking to her. He didn't, of course.

"I like that thing you're doing with your voice, Angie. It's sexy." He waggled his eyebrows.

"First of all," Angelina said, refusing to fall for his charms, "that's just my normal voice. Second of all, flattery will get you nowhere, so you may as well stop trying."

George pressed a hand to his chest. "That hurts, Angie. I would _never_ use flattery to get my way."

Angelina giggled in spite of herself, and decided that she couldn't begrudge her boyfriend a _little_ fun. "Fine," she conceded, once her laughter had died down. "I will go outside with you on one condition."

"What's that?" George asked.

"You have to cuddle with me for the rest of the day," she grinned. She climbed out of bed and began pulling on a pair of black leg warmers. If she was going to have to go outside, she wanted to be able to feel her legs.

George grinned back at her. "I think I can agree to that."


	11. When We Were Young: dragon

_Note: George and Angelina are in their second year here. _

* * *

**When We Were Young**

"You have _three_ older brothers?" Angelina asked, looking awed. "Wow."

"Yeah," George replied, reclining in a squashy armchair by the common room fireplace. He and Angelina were supposed to be working on a Potions essay together, but had somehow gotten onto the topic of George's family instead. "What about you?"

"Oh, I don't have any siblings," she said, sounding a bit sad. "It's just me."

George immediately tried to imagine not having any siblings, and failed miserably. Growing up, the Burrow had always been so noisy, so full of life...he simply couldn't picture it any other way despite his best efforts.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He reached out and awkwardly patted her arm. "Sometimes it's a bit much, though, because in addition to three older brothers and Fred, I've also got a younger brother and sister."

Angelina giggled. "Aw, your poor sister is the only girl!"

George snorted. "Yeah, but she does okay for herself. She may be the baby of the family, but don't let that fool you. She's _tough_. Fred always says she's got the face of an angel and the personality of the Devil."

"I'll bet." Angelina uncrossed her legs and looked around. "Where _is_ Fred, anyway? I thought he'd be with you. Merlin knows you're practically inseparable."

"He's in detention with McGonagall," George smirked. "Somehow she didn't suspect that _I_ had anything to do with putting dung beetles in Marcus Flint's bag. I reckon she did, though, and just didn't want to take too many points away from Gryffindor this close to the end of term. You know how badly she wants to beat Slytherin in the House Cup championship."

"Poor Fred," Angelina said sympathetically. "Back to your siblings, though — Percy still goes to Hogwarts, obviously—"

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah. His Holy Prefectness still goes here, unfortunately."

"So what do your older two brothers do?" she asked, picking up her quill and doodling on a scrap of parchment.

"Well, my eldest brother, Bill, works for Gringotts in Egypt, and my second-eldest brother, Charlie, works with dragons in Romania," George recited proudly.

Angelina dropped her quill and gaped at him. An ink stain began to blossom across her parchment, but she didn't seem to notice. "Whoa, one of them works with _dragons_?"

"That's right." George was suddenly very glad that his two oldest brothers had chosen jobs full of glamour and intrigue. It wasn't easy to impress Angelina, but she certainly looked impressed now.

She stared at him for another moment. "I don't believe you," she declared at last. A loose braid had fallen into her face, and she pushed it out of the way to fix George with a challenging look.

George felt his jaw drop. No one had ever _not_ _believed_ him before. "Why not?" he demanded.

"I guess I just don't believe that someone so cool would be related to _you_," she giggled.

George burst out laughing. Angelina was forever teasing him and Fred, but he didn't mind. He actually admired her for it. In fact, that was probably why she was quickly becoming one of his closest friends — she wasn't afraid to make fun of them as much as they made fun of her.

"Come on," he chuckled, elbowing her in the side gently. "We'd better get started on these essays or we'll be up all night."

Angelina wiped her eyes. "I'm supposed to say that," she chided jokingly.

"You're right," he agreed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I've been hanging around _you_ for too long."

Angelina grinned. "Careful, Weasley," she warned, her brown eyes sparkling, "or I might let slip to McGonagall that you helped put those beetles in Flint's bag."

"You wouldn't," George said confidently. "You love me too much."

Angelina made a disparaging noise. "Ew. You wish."

Later, George lay in his four-poster bed next to a gently snoring Lee, replaying the night's conversation in his mind. It had been nice hanging out with Angelina without Fred around, he realized. Maybe he should try and do that more often.

* * *

Word count: 678


	12. Sweet Disasters: ash

_"Biscuit" = "cookie." (Assuming I did my research correctly.)_

_I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure how cooking with magic works so for the purposes of this story, cooking is being done non-magically. :P_

* * *

**Sweet Disasters**

Angelina stared at her mother's recipe book in dismay. She felt as though she might as well be reading a different language, and began to think that surprising George with freshly-baked biscuits wasn't such a good idea after all. She managed to talk herself back into it, however, after just a few minutes. It couldn't possibly be _that _difficult. She just had to measure a few ingredients, mix them together, and put the dough on a baking sheet. It couldn't be harder than playing _Quidditch._

Half an hour later, Angelina had concluded that making biscuits was indeed harder than playing Quidditch. Her dough didn't look quite right — it was so thick that she was having trouble mixing it — and the yellow apron she had put on was somehow covered in stains.

All she wanted to do was throw out the dough and buy some biscuits at the store instead. But she wasn't a quitter, so she squared her shoulders and soldiered on. She plopped the dough onto the baking sheet as best she could, turned on the oven timer, and tried her best to be optimistic about the outcome of her afternoon in the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the timer went off, and Angelina skipped back to the kitchen, excited that she would have a savory treat for her boyfriend. As soon as she opened the oven door, however, she gasped. The "cookies" were little more than piles of ash.

"Oh, no," she whispered, hurrying to open a window.

...

George arrived home from work around five o'clock and stopped short at the sight of his hysterical girlfriend. She was pacing around the flat, wringing her hands and sounding altogether distressed, from what little he could catch of her mumblings.

"Angie, what's wrong?" He rushed over and wrapped his arms around her. "What's going on, love?"

"The biscuits," she replied, looking so distraught that, for a fraction of a second, George wondered if he had misheard her.

"The... biscuits," he repeated slowly. By the look on her face, he thought that someone had died.

"Yes!" she wailed. "The biscuits that were supposed to be a fun surprise for you!"

"Shhhh," George soothed, rubbing tiny circles into her back. "It's all right, love."

"No, it isn't," she insisted. "I'm a complete failure, George."

George couldn't help it — he started to laugh. "Angie," he said gently, "if I wanted a woman who could cook, I wouldn't be dating you. I _know_ you can't cook, and you know what? I love you anyway."

She pulled away slightly and looked at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "Now, let me decide just how bad these biscuits are."

...

"Well, these are...pretty bad," George admitted, staring down at the baking sheet. He looked like he was barely holding back a laugh.

"I told you," Angelina said, shaking her head.

"I don't think I've ever seen biscuits this burned before," he said, not even bothering to suppress the grin stretching across his features.

Angelina glared at him. "Thanks for that, George. Much appreciated."

"Oh, come on, Angie," he chuckled. "You have to admit, it's kind of funny."

Angelina grabbed a dish towel and chucked it at him. "It most certainly is _not_."

George caught the towel easily and replaced it in its usual spot before taking both of her hands in his. "Look, love, I know you're upset that this didn't go as planned, but I promise you will look back on this one day and laugh. And I will be right there with you, laughing just as hard."

"Well, as long as you're there with me…" She found herself smiling for the first time in several hours. "Thank you, George, for always reminding me to laugh at myself."

"That's what I do best," he said with a wink.

* * *

Word count: 645


	13. To Have a Home: overgrown

**To Have a Home**

The cottage is overgrown with weeds and other various wildlife, but George loves it anyway. He draws up a plan to maximize its potential the way he would draw up an invention for the shop. An extra room here, a large window there...he puts all of his hopes and dreams into that drawing and prays that his meager offer will be enough.

"Where were you this morning?" Angelina asks that night after dinner.

"What do you mean? I was at work," he replies, his heart beating slightly faster than normal. He's not quite ready to tell her that he was working on plans for his future - _their_ future.

His girlfriend frowns, and he feels his hands go slightly clammy as she says, "That's odd. I stopped by the shop and Verity said you were out. Didn't know where you'd gone."

He forces out a laugh. "Really? She must have missed the fact that I was in the back room, working on some faulty merchandise. I'm sorry about that."

She tilts her head at him, the corners of her mouth still turned down. "You're not hiding anything from me, are you, George?"

"Of course not," he says.

...

By some miracle, the cottage's owners accept his mediocre offer, and George is so ecstatic that he tells Fred immediately.

"You did what?" Fred asks, his eyes wide.

"I bought a house!" George whoops. He shows his twin the drawings he made of the layout, plus his proposed changes. "I bought a house and I'm going to ask Angie to move in with me there and _Merlin_, I really hope she says yes."

Fred studies it for a moment, then laughs and pulls him in for a hug. "She'd be crazy not to."

...

"Hey, Fred mentioned that you had some good news today?" Angelina's voice is casual as she cuts a piece of pecan pie.

George fantasizes about murdering his twin for approximately five seconds before realizing he hasn't answered the question. "Er, yeah, about the shop, actually. We've seen a lot of growth this quarter."

"I see." She doesn't sound totally convinced, however, and George notices that she's stabbing the knife into the pie with more force than he would consider necessary.

"Everything all right, Angie?" he asks gently.

"Sure," she says, eyes blazing. "Everything is _just fine_."

George gulps and wonders, not for the first time, if he's making a mistake being so deceitful. But he wants to be sure — _really_ sure — that he isn't rushing into this decision. He's spent his whole life being impulsive (though not quite as impulsive as Fred), and for once, he just wants to do things by the book.

...

"Have you told her yet? Have you _asked_ her yet?" Fred wants to know.

George sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Not yet, Fred."

"What are you waiting for?" If Fred's disbelief wasn't evident in his tone, it would be in his expression. Seconds later, the shocked look clears, and he nudges George. "Hey, look, if you need a little shove in the right direction, I'm more than happy to give you one."

"I'm all right," George says hastily. "I'm going to tell her tonight, as a matter of fact."

...

He plans a date at a nice restaurant before taking her to see the cottage. He isn't his usual self at dinner — he's distracted and quiet — and he can tell that Angelina is more suspicious than ever. It is with great relief that he pays the bill and prepares to leave.

Angelina winds a scarf around her neck and follows him out into the cold. "Where are we going?"

"I want to show you something," he says. "The reason for...a lot of my behavior the past two weeks."

Angelina raises an eyebrow, but lets him take her hand. They Apparate to the cottage, and George braces himself for her reaction when he tells her he bought it.

"Wow. That's a...big step," is all she says.

"Right, but what do you think of it?" he presses.

"It's, erm, very...inhabited?" she says, her gaze sweeping over the brambles and bushes that have made the house their home.

"I know it's not much right now, but I'm going to fix it up," George tells her, leading her to the front porch where a broken flowerpot sits. He takes a deep breath. "And I want you to live here with me."

She stares at him for a long moment, and he can't remember ever feeling more vulnerable, not even that time when Fred dared him to run through Hagrid's pumpkin patch completely naked.

"I—wow. I wasn't expecting that at all," she says slowly.

George shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "So... that's a 'no.'"

He sinks onto the first step and looks out at the tangled garden without really seeing it. He hadn't exactly prepared for this outcome.

Angelina sits next to him and rubs his shoulder. "It's not a 'no,' George. It's an... 'I'm not sure you know what you're saying.'"

He turns to her. "I _do_ know what I'm saying," he chokes out. "I've never wanted anything more in my whole life, Angie."

"Yeah, but did you think about this?" she asks. "_Really_ think about it?"

"_Yes_! I bought this house two weeks ago, and the only reason I didn't tell you about it sooner is because I wanted to make sure I wasn't rushing anything!" George doesn't know how else to make her understand that he's serious about this — about _them_.

She lets out a soft exhale as her eyes light up in understanding. "So this really _is_ why you've been acting so weird lately."

George nods. "I know I shouldn't have kept it from you—"

Angelina leans over and kisses him. "No, you shouldn't have, but I'm proud of you for thinking this through. Of course I'll move in with you."

George grins and kisses her back. "I am officially the happiest bloke the world right now."

* * *

Word count: 1,005


	14. Bedtime Stories: legend

**Bedtime Stories**

"Mummy," Fred asked one night before bed, "what was Daddy like at school?"

Angelina chuckled, even as she tried to figure it out what to say. "Daddy was...very silly. He got into a lot of trouble for being silly, though, so I hope you don't plan on following in his footsteps."

Fred shook his head, but she didn't miss the cheeky little grin on his face as he did so. She wondered, not for the first time, if he wouldn't end up _exactly_ like George.

"What kinds of silly things did Daddy do?" the little boy asked, but before she could answer, George poked his head into the room.

"Are you two talking about me?" he smirked.

Angelina nodded. "He's asking about the kinds of silly things you did in school."

George's face lit up, and Angelina knew he would keep their son up for hours if he got started on his various misdeeds.

"Maybe we could talk about that another time, though," she said hastily, shooting her husband a warning look.

"Nonsense, Angie, dear," he said cheerfully. "Freddie's old enough to hear about my exploits."

"That's not what I meant—" Angelina began, but the damage was done. As usual, George had known exactly what to say to ensure that their son got what he wanted. The little boy looked excitedly between the two of them.

"Yeah, Mummy, I'm not a little kid anymore!" he exclaimed. "I want to hear about Daddy's silly things!"

Angelina sighed. "Fine. But he'll have to tell you, as I'm going to bed."

"Don't be a spoilsport, Angie," George pouted, pulling her onto his lap.

"I'm tired, George—" She tried to stand, but his strong arms, which had made him a very good Beater, held her in place.

"Just one quick story," he promised. "How about the one where Fred and I left Hogwarts for good?"

"George Fabian Weasley!" Angelina scolded, trying to keep quiet so that their son wouldn't hear too much of their conflict. "I don't want him to get any ideas!"

George moved her braids out of the way so that he could kiss her shoulder. "You worry too much, darling," he said, his breath tickling her neck.

"Don't 'darling' your way out of this," Angelina said sternly, twisting around to glare at him.

"Mummy? Daddy?" Fred piped up. "Can you _please_ tell me a story now?"

George released his hold on Angelina's arms, allowing her to stand and move to the other side of the bed. "Here's the thing, sweetheart," she said carefully, tucking a wayward curl behind his ear, "Mummy doesn't want you thinking that what Daddy did was...good. It worked out for him, and it was something he needed to do, but it's not for everyone, all right?"

Fred nodded so vigorously she was surprised he didn't make himself dizzy. "Yes, Mummy. I understand."

"Good." She kissed the top of his head and looked towards her husband. "Do you want to start or should I?"

"Ladies first," George said, gesturing at her.

Angelina rolled her eyes, but began to tell Fred about a horrible tyrant named Umbridge who took over Hogwarts during their last year. Fred was a captive audience, making all the right sounds and expressions as she relayed the horrors of that year.

"And then she banned Daddy and Uncle Fred and Harry from playing Quidditch ever again—"

"_No_!" little Fred shouted. Angelina nodded somberly.

"She did. And then—well, I'll let Daddy tell you the good stuff."

Fred eagerly turned his attention to George. "What happened next, Daddy?"

George launched into an explanation of the enchanted fireworks that were set off, and of the pop-up swamp that covered the east wing's fifth floor.

"Umbridge was going to put us in detention again, you know, but we just wanted to start running the joke shop, so we summoned our brooms from her office and flew off into the sunset!" he finished proudly.

"Whoa," their son whispered, his eyes wide. "That's so _cool_."

"Yes, it did make Daddy and Uncle Fred legends at Hogwarts," Angelina said, chuckling as she recalled the shock on Umbridge's toad-like face, "but again, I do _not_ want you to think that you can do something like that just because Daddy did."

"I won't, Mummy," Fred said with an angelic smile that didn't quite fool her.

"I think that's enough for tonight, young man," she said, tucking the forest-green sheet around him gently.

Out in the hallway, she turned to George and sighed. "You know he's probably going to try and do something just like that now, don't you?"

George grinned. "He wouldn't be my son if he didn't, now would he?"

"You're impossible," Angelina groaned, shaking her head.

"Maybe," George said lightly, "but you love me anyway."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply. "I suppose I can't deny that."

* * *

Word count: 811


	15. savior of the broken: wild

**savior of the broken**

Angelina snuggled up next to George on the park bench. Her eyes fluttered shut. Everything was so peaceful, until—

She jerked upright and turned to George with wide eyes. "Did you hear that?"

"Mm?" He rubbed his eyes. "Hear what?"

"Shhh!" She pressed a finger to his lips and waited. The pitiful chirping sounded again. "There, did you hear that?"

George nodded. "Where do you think it's coming from?"

"I think it's in that bush over there." She pointed to a bush just left of the bench they were sitting on. After a moment, she heard the chirping noise once more, and began to move stealthily towards it.

Suddenly, a tiny yellow and black bird hopped out of the foliage and made the same woeful sound. Angelina knelt and peered at it.

"Hello," she said gently. She felt a little silly for talking to a wild bird, but she hoped that the sound of her voice would reassure it that she wanted to help.

As it hopped closer, a single feather fluttered to the ground. Angelina realized that the wing it had fallen from was bent at a weird angle, and she gasped softly. She looked back at George. "Its wing is broken," she breathed.

"I don't suppose you've ever healed a bird before?" he whispered back.

"No. And I don't want to risk injuring it any further." She had helped an injured bird or two back in her childhood, but healing would involve more complicated magic and she figured she should leave that to an expert. She sat back on her heels and racked her brain for anyone who might be able to help. "Hey, doesn't your sister's friend work with animals?"

"Who, Luna?" George asked.

"Yeah. Could she heal this bird?" The bird cocked its head at her as if it could understand what she was saying.

"I don't see why not," he said thoughtfully. "She's quite good with all animals, magic or otherwise."

Angelina conjured a tiny box, a towel, and some bandages. She carefully wrapped the bird in the bandages and placed it on the towel inside the box. "All right, Hufflepuff, in you go," she cooed, before slowly closing the lid.

"Hufflepuff?" George snorted.

"I don't know if it's a boy or a girl and its colors reminded me of Hufflepuff house!" she said defensively.

He threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Let's go...Hufflepuff."

Angelina cradled the box against her chest. "We're going to get you some help, Hufflepuff. Don't worry."

"How do you think it will do with Apparation?" George wondered.

She bit her lip, thinking. "I'm not sure. I suppose it would be better if we could get Luna to come here."

George ran a hand through his hair. "All right. I'll send a message to Gin and see if she can reach Luna."

Angelina walked back over to the bench and sat. "I guess we should make ourselves at home here, then."

George waved his wand and sent a Patronus to Ginny before settling down next to her again.

"I always knew you had a thing for broken creatures," he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"No, just you," she shot back, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "I love you too, Angie."

She leaned over and kissed him, careful not to disturb Hufflepuff's box. "I know."

...

Luna arrived a short while later and smiled benevolently at the couple. "Ginny says you have a bird for me?"

Angelina stood and held out the box. "Er, yes. A little yellow and black one."

Luna gingerly took it from her and peered inside. "Oh, yes, a beautiful goldfinch! How terrible that its wing is broken. I'll heal it straightaway."

She set the box on the bench and lifted the bandaged bird from its confines. After unwrapping the bandages, she exclaimed, "Oh, it's a girl!"

George nudged Angelina. "Maybe 'Helga' would be a better name, then, eh?"

Angelina shushed him and watched, transfixed, as Luna murmured soothing words to the wounded creature. Finally, she waved her wand and, with a flash of light, the broken wing was healed.

"Helga" chirped happily and zoomed around Luna's head first, then Angelina's.

Angelina laughed. It was as though the bird was thanking her. "You're welcome," she said.

* * *

Word count: 711


	16. Christmas Eve Kisses: ornament

**Christmas Eve Kisses**

It was Christmas Eve, and George and Angelina were huddling on a bench in the Burrow's garden. It had snowed earlier, covering the ground and all of the foliage, but despite the natural beauty around him, George could focus only on the beautiful girl beside him.

"Where do all the gnomes go this time of year?" Angelina asked, her teeth chattering. She tugged her scarf a little tighter around her neck, but it didn't seem to help, for she continued to shiver violently.

George wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Well, they live in burrows, don't they? So I reckon they probably hibernate."

"Makes sense." By now, Angelina was shaking so hard that George wondered if he shouldn't just give her his present inside. But inside was crowded with people, and he had wanted to do this in private...

"Angie?" he said softly.

"Yeah?"

She looked at him then, her eyes bright and her cheeks slightly flushed, and he felt his heart swell. She looked so lovely, and he knew that he could no longer think of her as just a friend.

"I have something for you," he said. He reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a box the size of his palm. He had taken great care in wrapping it with a fancy gold-foiled wrapping paper. Inside was a metal ornament of an overlapping Quaffle and Bludger. He'd had it made especially for her — it was a unique gift meant to remind her of their shared love of Quidditch.

"Oh, erm, it's not Christmas yet, George," she said, a slightly puzzled look on her face. "I'll have to wait until tomorrow to open it."

"I know it isn't, but I wanted you to have this today. I have another present that you can open tomorrow," he explained.

She tucked a braid behind her ear and smiled tentatively at him. "This isn't one of your pranks, is it?"

He shook his head. "It isn't. I promise."

She hesitated another moment before reaching out and taking the box from him. Though both wore gloves, George could have sworn he felt a jolt of electricity when their hands touched.

It seemed to take Angelina forever to unwrap his gift. He wasn't sure if that was because his anticipation was so great or because she genuinely was opening it slowly. She had an almost suspicious look on her face, as though she still expected it to be a practical joke.

Finally, she tore the rest of the paper off and looked inside the box. Her eyes widened. "George," she said shakily, "you shouldn't have."

George felt a slow, cold panic creep over him. Angelina didn't sound pleased, she sounded...upset. How could this have gone so wrong?

"Angie, I'm sorry," he pleaded, without even knowing what he was apologizing for. "I just thought—"

"What are you apologizing for? I love it," she whispered. She pulled the ornament out and held it up.

"You do?" George blinked. "I thought it upset you."

"No, I just thought...it must have been a lot of money," she said, her voice quiet. She set about nestling it back in its box. George tried desperately to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

"It wasn't expensive," he lied quickly. "I mean, not that you aren't worth something expensive, because you _are_—oh, Merlin, I'm mucking this up so much—"

Angelina finally turned her gaze on him. "Mucking what up?"

"Giving you your present," he sighed. "I wanted it to be, you know, special. I had planned out this whole speech and now I... I'm here with you and all I can think is, 'I don't even stand a chance.'"

His companion's brow furrowed. "Don't stand a chance at...?"

"At being more than a friend to you," he admitted, as heat flooded his face. He closed his eyes, waiting for her to tease him, or yell at him...anything. But there was only silence. He opened his eyes to find her face mere centimetres from his, and his heart rate sped up. "What—what are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to kiss me," she breathed, her own eyes fluttering shut.

George cupped her face in his gloved hands and pressed their lips together. Her lips were slightly chapped, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the warmth that was spreading through him as he kissed her.

Angelina's gift forgotten, he kissed her until they both ran out of air, and then again until he heard Mrs. Weasley calling for them.

"Merry Christmas, Angie," he whispered, helping her to her feet.

"Merry Christmas, George." She gave him one final peck before following him back inside.

* * *

Word count: 785


	17. Almost a Weasley: misfit

**Almost a Weasley**

The first time Angelina visited the Burrow, she felt like a misfit. There was the small matter of the physical differences, of course — she had dark hair and skin, whereas the Weasleys were all redheaded and pale — but even the sheer number of them was overwhelming. She was an only child, and she hardly knew any of Fred and George's siblings, so the crowded kitchen and noisy atmosphere took some getting used to. Still, the twins did their best to make her feel included, mostly by roping her into their pranks on their other siblings. That made her feel like she was right back at Hogwarts with them, although at the Burrow, there was the added possibility that they would get in trouble with Mrs. Weasley.

The eldest Weasley brothers, Charlie and Bill, were out of the house and living abroad by then, but Percy, Ron, and Ginny remained at home. Angelina was especially happy to have Ginny around — Ginny understood what it was like to be a girl in the male-dominated Weasley household, and she sympathized with Angelina whenever the twins' antics got to be too much. It was a good thing that they got on so well, despite their age difference, because Angelina had to share a tiny bedroom with her. She would have, of course, preferred to bunk with the twins, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't hear of any other sleeping arrangements.

She spent much of that first visit playing Quidditch, gorging herself on Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking, growing closer to Fred and George (but especially George), and wishing that her own house was more like the Burrow. The Johnson house was quiet, almost austere, and her parents liked it that way. After the hustle and bustle of the Burrow, Angelina wasn't sure that she could go back to the silence.

She wasn't much of a crier, but her last day with the Weasleys almost brought her to tears. She felt closer to the redheaded family than she had ever felt to her own, and she didn't want to leave. Mrs. Weasley wrapped her up in a gigantic hug and made her promise that she would come back over the winter holidays, a promise that she made quite easily. Mr. Weasley and Percy bid her farewell in their own slightly awkward ways, while Ron, blushing furiously, told her that she was the best Chaser he had ever seen. Ginny, too, gave her a big hug and whispered that she hoped Angelina would return for every holiday ever. Finally, Fred and George scooped her up and put her on their shoulders so that they could parade around with her for a few more minutes.

As Angelina waved goodbye to the family that had taken her in without question, her heart was full. Although she didn't look like them and had no blood ties to them, she no longer felt like a misfit among them, either. She was practically a Weasley herself — and little did she know that one day, she would officially become one.

* * *

Word count: 512

_A/N: too much telling, not enough showing, and not much Angelina/George either, but at least I'm one day closer to being caught up. :p_


	18. Coffee Shop Crush: sling

_Note: this is a coffee shop!AU._

* * *

**Coffee Shop Crush**

Angelina walked into her local Starbucks and scanned the counter briefly. Her heart sped up when she saw red hair. The cute barista from last week — George, she remembered from his nametag — was here! Perfect. She hadn't wanted to order anything, let alone _talk_ to him the last time she'd been, because her mum had been with her. Today, however, she was all alone.

Thankful that there was no queue, she strode right up to the counter and gave the boy a wide smile. "Hi," she said flirtatiously.

"Hey yourself," George replied with an easy grin.

"Can I get a...white chocolate mocha, George?" she asked. That was her favorite drink, and she thought it made her sound sophisticated.

"Name?" He held the marker at the ready.

"Angelina," she told him, making sure to keep eye contact with him. She couldn't help but notice that he had the most brilliant blue eyes.

"Coming right up, Angelina," he winked.

...

Angelina was excited to discover that George was working again a mere two days later.

"Hey, George." She leaned on the counter and flashed him a winning smile.

"What'll it be today, Angelina?" he asked. The way he said her name made it sound so beautiful. "Same as last time?"

"You remembered?" He must have been paying as much attention to her as she was to him. The realization made her feel like she was on top of the world.

"White chocolate mocha, right?" His eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth.

"Correct." Her smile grew when she realized he had shortened her name to "Angie" on her cup.

...

"Angie!" George called.

She waved to him and took her place at the back of the queue. When she finally reached the counter, she greeted him enthusiastically. Her eyes then traveled down to his arm, which was in a sling, and she frowned. "Oh, what happened to your arm?"

George shrugged his good shoulder. "Broke it jumping from a roof on a dare," he said. "Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably." Angelina didn't understand how he could sound so casual. She'd broken her arm when she was little, and it had _hurt_.

"Wow," was all she said in response.

He smirked at her. "Impressed?"

"You wish," she countered. He didn't seem upset by that response.

"The usual?" he asked instead. She nodded. "Tell you what, it's on me today."

She smiled graciously at him. Free coffee? She wasn't about to turn that down. "Thanks, George."

...

Almost a week later, Angelina was back at Starbucks, and, as luck would have it, so was George. She had planned to ask him about his arm, but when she went to see if he'd gotten any signatures on his cast — thinking perhaps she would offer to sign it herself — she realized he wasn't wearing one.

She was so distracted trying to figure out how his arm had healed so quickly that she didn't hear him ask what she wanted to drink.

"Huh?" She blinked and realized he was waving a hand in front of her face.

"You all right?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm...fine." Angelina cleared her throat. "Erm, weren't you here last week?"

He laughed. "Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that?"

"Were you?" she pressed, and she must have sounded more insistent than she realized, because the barista now looked quite alarmed.

"No. Why—"

She shook her head. "I don't understand. I was just here last week and you had a cast on your arm!" Her gaze fell on his nametag, which read "Fred," and her confusion only grew. "Fred? Who the hell is Fred?"

George — Fred? — grinned. "That would be me. The guy last week, with the cast? That was my twin brother, George."

Angelina covered her face with her hands. She was certain she had never been more embarrassed in her life. "Oh my God, I feel like the universe is playing some horrible practical joke on me," she moaned. "I didn't even think to check your nametag when I walked in because I just assumed—"

"It's all right," Fred chuckled. "Happens all the time. Anyway, what'll it be?"

"White chocolate mocha," she told him, grateful for the subject change.

He stared at her for a second before his face split into a grin. "Hang on. You're Angelina, aren't you?"

Angelina nodded, slightly taken aback.

"George won't shut up about you," he informed her. "Told me he memorized your order and everything."

She raised an eyebrow. It might have been creepy if anyone else had done it, but knowing that George had done so made her stomach do a somersault. "That's some dedication."

"That's one way of putting it," Fred laughed. "Anyway, your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

...

Angelina couldn't stop thinking about what Fred had said. George had been talking about her! Surely that meant he thought of her as more than just a customer.

She found herself wandering towards Starbucks a few days later. Upon spotting red hair behind the counter once more, she tried to determine whether Fred or George was working, but it was too difficult. If she couldn't even tell them apart up close, she couldn't expect to do it from further away, she reasoned.

At the counter, she paused to read the nametag. George. She checked for a cast, too, just to be safe. Check.

"Hey, George," she said casually. She hoped to lull him into a false sense of security before confronting him about the twin thing. "How's the arm?"

"It's healing fine," he answered, confident as ever. Oh, if only he knew the card she was about to play.

"Glad to hear it." Angelina deliberately kept her tone light. "Hey, it's pretty funny how you never mentioned having an identical twin who also happens to work here." Having made her point, she folded her arms and waited for him to respond.

He smirked, seemingly unfazed. "Maybe I didn't want the competition."

"Competition?" Angelina momentarily forgot to look intimidating. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't believe a pretty girl like you has to ask what I mean by that," George said, shaking his head.

He thought she was pretty!

"Were you really afraid your brother would sweep me off my feet when he knows full well how you feel about me?" she asked, eyebrow quirked.

George blushed. "I can't believe he told you that I wouldn't stop talking about you," he muttered. "I'll murder him."

"Maybe you should thank him instead," Angelina said coyly. A line of customers was beginning to form, but George didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because now that I know you're into me, I can tell you that if you asked me out right now, I'd say yes," she said. It was a bold move, but she had a feeling it would pay off.

He took a deep breath. "Well, as it happens...there's a dance coming up at my school and I was wondering if you'd want to go with me?"

Bingo.

"A dance? Shouldn't you take me to dinner first?" she teased.

"I think I could manage that," he chuckled. This time, when he wrote her name on the cup, he wrote down his number, too. "I'm off at four. I look forward to making dinner plans with you."

* * *

Word count: 1,228


	19. Wedding Reconnaissance: tread

**Wedding Reconnaissance**

"Angelina, dear, now that you and George are engaged, I simply must know your plans for the wedding," said Mrs. Weasley.

Angelina gulped. It had been very stupid of her to offer to help her future mother-in-law with the dishes right after the luncheon at which she and George had announced their engagement. She should have known the Weasley matriarch had an ulterior motive when she so easily accepted Angelina's offer of help and no one else's...Oh well, it was too late to dwell on that now.

Mrs. Weasley stared at her with piercing brown eyes, and Angelina knew that she had to tread carefully. "We hadn't really talked much about it yet," she said, hurriedly drying a saucer.

"No?" Mrs. Weasley continued to fix her with an unnerving gaze, and she could have sworn she felt a bead of sweat forming on her forehead.

"Er, maybe you should talk to George about this," she muttered, putting all of her energy into drying the remaining dishes as fast as she could.

"You missed a spot, dear," Mrs. Weasley pointed out most unhelpfully. "Perhaps if you went a bit slower...? Anyway, I thought I'd talk to you first, just us women. It's a way for us to bond, not that I'm not fond of you already, of course!"

Angelina gritted her teeth. She wanted out of this conversation, but Mrs. Weasley's meticulous standards were making that a tad difficult. It was a shame that the others hadn't stayed behind to help...

Thankfully, George decided to poke his head into the kitchen just then. Angelina quickly shot him a panicked look, and he stepped into the room with a frown. "What's this, mother dearest? Are you holding my lovely fiancée hostage in here?"

"Of course not, dear," Mrs. Weasley sputtered indignantly. "Angelina and I were having a lovely conversation, weren't we, dear?"

Angelina nodded with exaggerated slowness, and George seemed to understand that she wasn't really agreeing with his mother. "Well," he said cheerfully, "I'm quite sorry to interrupt the wonderful time you were having, but I was hoping to steal Angie away for a game of Quidditch?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Very well then, dear, I'll manage from here." Angelina hastily hung up the mauve dishcloth and began to exit, but not before the elder witch had ominously added, "I look forward to continuing our conversation another time, Angelina, dear."

As soon as she was sure she was out of earshot, Angelina groaned. George looked sideways at her. "Everything all right, love? I don't think I've ever seen you look so distraught, not even after Umbridge banned Quidditch."

"Yeah, well, your mum was pressing me for details about our wedding," she grumbled. "You know she isn't going to be okay with us wanting a small, intimate affair."

George stopped walking and grabbed her hand. "So what?" he said earnestly. "It's not her wedding, is it?"

"No, but—"

"But nothing," George said, his voice firm. "We're going to do things our way."

Angelina felt her shoulders relax. "Really, George?" she whispered, hopeful. "You really mean that?"

George laughed. "I've spent my whole life defying my mum, Angie. You really think I would cave on something as important as our wedding?"

Angelina leaned over and kissed him. "No, of course not."

"Good. Now, let's go get our brooms. My team's gonna kick your team's arses," George grinned, ducking as she moved to swat him.

"We'll see about that," she retorted, her earlier panic forgotten. George had a way of making everything feel like it was going to be okay, and somehow, she knew that it would be.

* * *

Word count: 604


	20. Of Breakfast and Broomsticks: treasure

**Of Breakfast and Broomsticks**

Angelina woke up one morning to find that George was not in bed. Instead, a note with her name on it lay on his pillow, illuminated by the bright sunlight streaming through the window. She opened it and read the contents quickly. George wanted her to come to the kitchen for a home cooked meal.

"It smells amazing in here," she declared, walking into the room and savoring the smell of sausages, eggs, and potatoes. "Did you do all of this yourself?"

"I may have had a bit of help," George admitted, "but Mum only got me started, I swear. The rest is all me."

"Well, it looks great," Angelina told him. "I can't wait to try it all."

Soon enough, breakfast was served, and Angelina piled her plate high with a little bit of everything. She eagerly took a bite and sighed contentedly. The eggs were so fluffy. Another bite, this time of potato, had her closing her eyes in ecstasy. It had been roasted to perfection.

"Does that mean you like it?" George asked, watching her carefully.

She giggled. "Yes. Now, what's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to spoil you?" George said lightly.

"I suppose not," Angelina replied, reaching over to wipe a bit of egg from his mouth. He smiled at her in thanks, and she couldn't help but smile back. He was forever doing sweet little — and not so little — things like this, and it just made her love him even more.

She enjoyed the food so much that her plate was clear within minutes.

"Geez, Angie, are you eating for two?" George teased.

"Trust me, love," she laughed. "You'd know if I was."

George finished up the last of the potatoes a short while later. "Well, that was amazing—"

"Ah, yes, humble as always," Angelina interrupted goodnaturedly.

"—but that was only part of my surprise," he finished.

"There's more?" Angelina asked, eyes wide. "Merlin's beard, George, are you sure there isn't a reason for all of this?"

He leaned over and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Just that I love you very much, and I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, savoring the feeling of his soft lips on hers. "I love you too, George."

He pulled away slowly, and she mourned the loss of his warm body against hers. "Wait here," he told her.

A minute later, he was back with a long package. He had used an eye-watering wrapping paper of hot pink and neon orange. Angelina took the bright object from him, her eyebrow quirked. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was—

"A broom?" she gasped, staring down at the gleaming broomstick and then back at her husband.

"Not just any broom," he said, grinning broadly. "A Firebolt Supreme. Best broom on the market, that is."

"I know. Merlin, George, this must have cost a fortune!" she whispered, eyeing the polished ebony handle and elaborate goblin-wrought ironwork that made up the most powerful broom money could buy.

He shrugged. "Business is good, love. Besides, I want my witch to have the best."

She threw her arms around him and kissed him again. "Thank you, George. I'll treasure it always."

* * *

Word count: 550


	21. An Unexpected Ghost: ghost

_Warning: references to canon character deaths, slight innuendo at the end. _

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo: **D5 (ghost/specter)

**Word count: **840

* * *

**An Unexpected Ghost**

Of all the ghosts George had thought he might see following the Battle of Hogwarts, he certainly hadn't expected to see that of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Professor Lupin?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. He had walked into his bedroom, looking for a tie, when the apparition had appeared before him.

The ghost nodded. He looked exactly as George remembered him — tired and pale. He even wore the same shabby robes that he had always worn. The only difference as far as George could tell was that he was now slightly see-through. "Hello, George."

"How—how are you?" George wanted to smack himself. The man was dead, how was he supposed to answer that?

"I'm alright," Lupin said softly. "I mean, as alright as I can be, given...the circumstances."

"Right. Yeah." George was silent for a moment, struggling with the question he most wanted to ask. "Have you—I don't suppose you've seen my brother?"

"Fred?" Lupin shook his head. "I'm afraid not. My guess is that he just...moved on."

George frowned. Why wouldn't Fred have come back as a ghost? Didn't he want to see George again? Maybe Lupin had made a mistake.

As if he could read George's thoughts, Lupin added, "It's not for everyone, you know — being a ghost. Sometimes...dead is better. Perhaps the idea of being a ghost — returning, but not really _being here_ — was too difficult for Fred."

Almost against his will, George's hands clenched into fists. "No," he said, his voice trembling with anger, or maybe sadness, "Fred would have come back. He wouldn't have abandoned me if he had a choice. Something must have happened to keep him away."

"It's not much of an existence," Lupin said sadly, gesturing to his translucent form. "Your brother was far braver than I. He wouldn't have wanted this for himself."

"Don't talk to me about what my brother would have wanted!" George shouted.

A moment later, there were footsteps outside the room. The door burst open to reveal a concerned Angelina. "George, what's going on? I heard shouting—" She stopped short at the sight of Lupin floating in the air. "_Professor Lupin?_"

The ghost smiled wearily. "Yes. Not the person you were expecting, I presume."

"No, it bloody well wasn't!" George said loudly.

Angelina put a hand on his arm. "George..."

He shrugged her away, fighting to keep his composure. "I don't understand. He says Fred might not have become a ghost. I thought Fred loved me. _Why wouldn't he have become a ghost?_" Tears began to spill down his cheeks, and Angelina rushed to gather him in her arms.

"I don't know, love," she whispered, stroking his hair. "I don't know, but it isn't because he didn't love you."

George closed his eyes. "I would have said that too, but now I'm not so sure."

"He did," Angelina insisted, her voice breaking. "I know he did."

"Forgive me for intruding," Lupin said, "but I seem to recall Fred staying at your bedside for days when your ear was jinxed off. Surely that was an act of love?"

Angelina smiled shakily. "Yeah, and what about the time when you stayed up late working on a test run of your Nosebleed Nougats, and even though he was tired, Fred managed to sneak down to the kitchens and get coffee for you?"

"All right, I get it." George sighed, but another memory had just popped into his head and he couldn't help but smile. When George had finally asked Angelina out, Fred had announced his desire to be best man at the wedding then and there. Although it had been a silly thing to do, George knew that Fred had done it out of love. "Thank you," he croaked, looking first at Angelina, and then at Lupin. "Thank you both for helping me remember."

"I truly am sorry that he couldn't be here to remind you himself," Lupin said.

"I am too," George said quietly, "but I guess it wasn't meant to be." Angelina cradled his head against her chest, and he was reminded, not for the first time, of how fortunate he was to have the love of a woman like her. After several minutes, during which time he was able to pull himself together, he turned to his former professor. "Hey, Professor Lupin?"

Lupin had turned away — George thought it likely that he had done so to give the couple some privacy, but now he faced them once more. "Yes, George?"

"How's Tonks?" he asked with a grin. He had always liked her, and he imagined that she was still as upbeat and colorful in death as she had been in life.

Lupin grinned back. "She's great, really great. Keeps saying that one of the perks of being a ghost is not having to worry about getting pregnant."

George and Angelina looked at each other and made identical faces of disgust.

"There's a mental image I really didn't need, mate," George muttered, shaking his head.

* * *

_A/N: I didn't want to go the expected route and make Fred the ghost, so here we are. I guess Tonks is also a ghost because she wanted to keep an eye on Teddy or something, and Remus wanted to stay with her. I don't know. :p I just wanted to add a bit of levity at the end because this is so heavy and sad._


	22. Ancient History: ancient

**Ancient History**

"Mummy, how did you and Daddy meet again?" Roxanne asked, burrowing under the covers until only her head was showing. She looked up at Angelina with her warm, brown eyes, eager to hear the answer for the upteenth time.

"Are you really asking how they met _again_, Roxy?" Angelina heard Fred calling from the next room. "You've asked that like a thousand times already!"

"Be nice, Freddie!" she called back. She smiled over at George before indulging her daughter's question once more. "Well, Mummy and Daddy were in the same Hogwarts house—"

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!" George interjected dramatically, causing Roxanne to let out a giggle.

"—but we didn't really become friends until we both made the Quidditch team in our second year," Angelina finished, smoothing down the blankets as she reminisced.

"Second year," the little girl echoed. "So that means you and Daddy were..." She tilted her head. "How old were you and Daddy then?"

"Eleven and twelve," George answered promptly. Seeing Angelina's surprised look, he added, "What? I hadn't had my birthday yet."

"Wow," Roxanne said with another giggle, "you two were old."

"We weren't _that_ old," Angelina protested, laughing. "We were only twice as old as you are now, sweetheart. Besides, if you think we were old then, what do you think we are now? We're both twenty-eight."

Roxanne's eyes grew comically wide. "Twenty-eight?" she squealed. "You two are ancient!"

"Yeah, we're practically dinosaurs, Angie," George chuckled.

Angelina threw a stuffed giraffe at him.

* * *

Word count: 250

_A/N: it's not a Weasley fic if people aren't throwing things at each other, lol. (I'm pretty sure this is the third fic I've ended with someone throwing something at Fred and/or George.)_


	23. The Perils of Waiting: dizzy

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo: **C2 (owl)

**Word count: **823

* * *

**The Perils of Waiting**

Angelina paced her dorm, stomach knotted with worry. This was the longest she had gone without hearing from Fred and George, and while she knew it was dangerous for them to send letters with Umbridge reading all of the post in and out of the castle, she still felt vaguely disappointed that they hadn't made more of an effort to contact her.

She paced for so long that she began to feel a bit dizzy from all of the circles she had tread. Or maybe it was just the fact that she hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, too anxious to hear from her friends.

"Angie?" Katie popped her head into the doorway. "Ready for lunch?"

Angelina stopped pacing and braced herself on one of the posts on Alicia's bed. "Erm, yeah. Just give me a moment." After Katie left, she sat down, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

If she didn't hear from the twins soon, she didn't know what she would do.

...

After lunch, Alicia and Katie offered to distract her with a game of Quidditch. Angelina shouldered her broom and walked out onto the pitch. Although she had finally eaten, her stomach still felt queasy.

She tried to tell herself that the twins were busy with their shop. "But surely they'd have time for you?" a voice inside her head whispered. "George especially wouldn't go this long without writing you." She shook her head and tried to focus on the sensations around her: the air rushing past her ears, the weight of the Quaffle in her hands, the yells from her friends to "pass it already!"

After a moment, she threw the ball to Katie and flew closer to the goalpost. Alicia had the Quaffle by then and was preparing to throw it towards her, but her mind had drifted towards the redheads again...

"Angie! The Quaffle!" Alicia called. Angelina blinked and realized it had soared right in front of her and was currently hurtling towards the ground. She swore and dove after it, catching it seconds before it impacted.

"Got it!" she called back. When she had reached the same altitude as her friends once more, Katie flew over to her.

"You're lucky it didn't hit you," she said, biting her lip. Angelina nodded grimly.

If she didn't hear from the twins soon, she was going to get hurt.

...

She tried to study before dinner, but all of the words in her Charms textbook swam before her eyes. It felt as though she was trying to read underwater, and she had to give up after less than an hour.

Pressing her face up against one of the tower windows, she wondered what the twins were up to. Maybe George was thinking about her. The thought brought a sad smile to her face. Though she was glad that the twins were off pursuing their dreams, she hated being left behind to deal with the tyrannical Umbridge alone. Sure, she had Katie and Alicia, but it wasn't the same. Fred and George had known how to keep morale up, and now they were gone.

"Hey, Angie, are you okay?" Alicia asked, looking up from her Potions essay with a frown.

Angelina forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just having a little trouble focusing on this reading."

If she didn't hear from the twins soon, her heart was going to break.

...

"Angie, you've got an owl!" Alicia shrieked, opening the dorm window to let the bird in. It swooped down and extended its leg to Angelina, who eagerly untied the letter. Her eyes caught a glimpse of George's scrawl on the outside, and her heart started to beat wildly.

After patting the owl and feeding it a treat, she sank onto her bed and began to read.

_Dear Angie,_

_How's Hogwarts these days? Sorry for not writing sooner, but Fred and I have been swamped with orders. That hasn't stopped me from thinking about you, though. I miss you loads. So does Fred. It's weird not having you around to laugh at our jokes and tease us and tell us that we're idiots. _

_I swear every little thing makes me think of you, Angie. Just the other day, I was reminded of that time in McGonagall's class when you set that shoelace on fire, all because Fred mentioned her name in passing. Crazy, isn't it? We've all come so far since then, you especially. _

_Anyway, I promise to try and write more frequently. If I don't, you hereby have my permission to send me a dozen Howlers. (I'll just chuck them all at Fred and run away.)_

_Fondly yours,_

_George_

Angelina reread George's letter several times, grinning widely. His personality shone through with every word, and though she still missed him dreadfully, it cheered her up immensely to know that he remained unchanged. She carefully folded up the missile and grabbed her quill. She had so much to tell him.


	24. Authentic Crêpes: tasty

**Authentic Crêpes**

"Say, Angie," George said casually one morning, "have you ever had an authentic crêpe?"

Angelina thought for a moment. "No, I don't believe so. I've always wanted to go to France and try one, though."

"Let's go, then." George sounded perfectly serious.

Angelina bit her lip. "To France? You want to go all the way to France just to get some crêpes?" In all the time that she'd known him, George had had some truly outlandish ideas, but this one had to top them all.

George grinned. "Why, yes, that's exactly what I want to do. Come on, if we hurry, I'll bet we can get a Portkey there within the hour."

...

Paris was busy, not that Angelina was surprised by that. All around her, men and women hurried past, and she caught snippets of rapid French here and there. She huddled closer to George — if she lost him, she wasn't sure how she would find him again. She didn't know a lick of French aside from, "Bonjour."

George, who was consulting a little hand-drawn map, led her to a little street cart where the delicious smells of freshly cooked crepes floated over to her.

"Smells good," she commented.

They joined the queue, waiting patiently for their turn to order.

"_Bonjour_," George told the man, handing over some French money. "_Nous voudrions des crêpes au Nutella._"

Angelina stared at him. "How do you know French?"

He shrugged. "I asked Fleur for some help with the basics."

"Oh, right." Angelina had forgotten that his sister-in-law was a native speaker. As she watched the man spread the batter on the cooktop, something occurred to her. "But how long have you been planning this, then? It must have taken you a few weeks to learn the basics, right?"

George chuckled. "Turns out I'm a bit lousy with languages, so it took me a bit longer than that."

"Aw, George, this was really sweet of you to do," Angelina said, pulling him in for a quick hug.

The man operating the cart cleared his throat and held out the warm crêpes, which had been wrapped in napkins.

"_Merci_," George told him.

Angelina clutched hers to her chest. She was excited to try it but wanted to wait until they had found a place to sit so that she could really savor it. "Come on, there's a bench over there by that fountain." She nodded at it.

Together, the pair walked over to the bench and sat down. Angelina held the crêpe up to her mouth and carefully took a bite, careful not to let the Nutella ooze out too much. The sweet flavour of the hazelnut spread was balanced out nicely by the thin pancake. She grinned at her boyfriend. "It's really tasty!"

George had, by this time, taken a bite of his as well. "Oh, Merlin, it really is," he groaned. "Wow."

Angelina giggled. "You've got a bit of Nutella" —she reached out and wiped at the brown smudge with her finger— "on your mouth."

"Thanks, love." His smile made her stomach do a somersault, and she thought she understood why Paris was referred to as "The City of Love." Here, in a sea of people who spoke a language she couldn't understand, it felt like they were the only two people that mattered.

She and George sat in companionable silence as they devoured the rest of their food.

"This was amazing, George, thank you," Angelina said, squeezing his hand. "I can't believe you planned this for me. I loved every second of it."

He leaned over and kissed her in response, and she couldn't help but smile as she pulled away, because he tasted like Nutella.

* * *

Word count: 615


	25. Hotel Room Hijinks: dark

_Note: while this still has a T rating, it's a bit more...suggestive than most of my other stuff so just bear that in mind, please. I do not wish to corrupt any innocent minds! (Although, this being , I doubt anyone on here is innocent-minded anymore. :P)_

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team): **Angelina Johnson/George Weasley

**List (Prompt): **Spring Medium 2 (Teacher/Parent Romance)

**Word Count: **833

* * *

**Hotel Room Hijinks**

It had been dark in the bar and in the subsequent hotel room where clothes had been discarded and limbs had tangled together.

Now, it was morning, and Angelina was gaping at the man she had shared a bed — and quite a bit more — with. She would have recognized that bright red hair anywhere, and she wanted to smack herself for not paying more attention the previous night. The dim lighting and copious amounts of alcohol didn't feel like much of an excuse. "_Mr. Weasley_?" She tugged the ivory sheet over herself and feigned interest in the generic sunset painting on the wall.

The man ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to be in a similar state of shock. "Erm, Mrs. Johnson, right?"

"Just Miss," she corrected. She turned back to him, cheeks flushed. "And I guess you can call me Angelina...you certainly didn't have a problem with that last night."

He grinned, seemingly looking her over appreciatively. "Well, you can call me George, then," he replied. Suddenly, his grin turned wicked. "What a naughty night we had, eh, Angie?"

"First of all, we're not doing the nickname thing," Angelina huffed, glancing around for her clothes. "Second of all" — she leaned over with the sheet still covering herself and plucked her pantyhose from the floor — "there is absolutely no reason for us to discuss the events of last night ever again."

"But—" Mr. Weasley — _George_ — began, looking hurt. She held up a hand.

"No buts. I am your son's teacher, which makes this beyond inappropriate. The fact that we're on first name terms is weird enough. Now, close your eyes, please."

"Why?" George sounded suspicious.

She sighed. "Because I need to walk to the bathroom to get dressed."

George leaned back against the headboard with his arms behind his head. She wished he wouldn't — doing so only drew her attention to his abdominal muscles, and that was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. "I'd close my eyes, but then I'd miss the view," he smirked.

With a roll of her eyes, Angelina asked, "Aren't you a little old to be acting like a teenager?"

"Nonsense! You're never too old to act like a teenager," he declared.

"Right." She shifted a little and began to pull her pantyhose on while keeping her legs beneath the sheet.

"What are you doing?" George asked, laughing. She stopped what she was doing to glare at him.

"Putting my pantyhose back on."

"I have never worn pantyhose, but it sounds very dangerous," he joked.

Angelina ignored him. Having finished covering one leg, she then moved to the other. "Can you hand me my skirt?"

George dove off the bed to fetch it for her, causing her to giggle unwittingly. He just looked so ridiculous...and he had a nice bum too.

"Thanks," she muttered, unable to meet his eyes. She scanned the floor near her side of the bed. "I don't suppose you see my blouse anywhere? Where _is_ it?"

George picked up the navy blue garment — it had apparently been near _his_ side of the bed — and dangled it in front of her, a mischievous expression on his face. "What, this blouse?"

"Yes!" Angelina lunged for him, but in the process of doing so, let the sheet fall away. She landed squarely on top of him, her lips mere inches from his. "Sorry," she said breathlessly.

He grinned up at her, and she felt her stomach do a flip. "I'm not," he whispered, and then he was kissing her.

Memories of the night before flooded through Angelina's brain as she kissed him back. But then the image of Fred, George's son, popped unbidden into her mind, and she pulled away abruptly. "I can't do this," she said heavily, reaching for her blouse and pulling it over her head. "It's just too...weird."

George grabbed her wrist just as she was about to stand, and she forced herself to look into his eyes. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but I really want to see you again, Angie—Angelina. It's only weird if you allow it to be weird."

Angelina bit her lip. "I'm just not sure I can do my job properly if I'm...you know, involved with you. It feels like a conflict of interest."

"Look, as long as you don't give Fred any special treatment, it'll be fine," George said confidently. "In fact, just give him a failing grade or two and no one will suspect a thing."

She swatted his arm. "_George_!"

"Kidding," he chuckled. "But seriously, I don't think anyone will have a problem with it."

Angelina toyed with the sheet for a moment. "Alright," she said at last. "But I want to slow things down a little. We should, you know, go to dinner a few times."

"I think I can make that happen," George replied, leaning over to kiss her again.

This time, she didn't pull away.


	26. Furbaby: coat

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team): **Angelina Johnson/George Weasley

**List (Prompt):** Fall Big List (plants/pets)

**Word Count:** 648

* * *

**Furbaby**

The animal shelter was packed with rows of cages, neatly lined up to allow for as many as possible. Many of the dogs inside were barking, making it difficult to hear anything except for their disgruntled chorus. There was a faint smell of bleach, too. If George was being honest, he felt a little overwhelmed, but he walked down each row anyway. As he went, he studied the little placard that hung from every cage.

_Lucy, 6 year old female, good with kids..._

_Weston, 10 month old male, does not do well with other dogs..._

_Marble, 4 month old female, not house-trained... _

George had to laugh at that. Angelina would kill him if he picked out a dog that wasn't house-trained.

Finally, he came to a cage where a Golden Retriever sat close to its door, wagging its tail excitedly when it saw him. It had a long, copper coat and intelligent eyes. The sign on its cage told George that this was an 8 year old male named Charlie. George immediately thought of his brother and grinned.

"Hey, Charlie," he said, crouching down to look at him. Charlie wagged his tail even harder.

"Charlie's a sweetheart." One of the employees had walked up behind him without him noticing. "But he's a bit on the older side, and most people want puppies."

George frowned. He supposed that made sense, but looking at Charlie, he couldn't comprehend how he would have ended up at the shelter, let alone why he wouldn't have been adopted right away. He seemed so friendly and down-to-earth.

"May I see him?" he asked.

"Of course." The young woman led George to a side room and told him to wait there. He did so, and a few minutes later she returned, leading Charlie on a short leash.

"Hey, boy," George said enthusiastically, stroking the dog's head. Charlie thumped his tail against the floor and was soon so relaxed that he was leaning against George's leg. George smiled down at him. He really was very sweet. Looking over at the girl, he said, "Listen, I have to run this by my wife, but...I think she'll love him just as much as I already do."

She broke into a delighted grin. "That's great! You'll just have to be good about brushing him often, as his coat is prone to matting, and make sure he gets lots of exercise as well."

George imagined himself running a brush through Charlie's thick fur, then thought of the large yard behind the house that would be perfect for a dog to run around in. "I don't think that will be a problem."

...

Angelina was sold on Charlie as soon as she saw him. "Who is this irresistible creature?" She knelt and began to cuddle him.

George chuckled. "I knew you'd love him."

"He's perfect," his wife declared. Charlie licked her face as if in agreement, and she giggled delightedly.

"You don't mind that he's a little older?" George asked. "I mean, most people want puppies, apparently."

She shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? I already have to deal with you, and you have the energy of like, _ten_ puppies."

"I do not!" George protested, but he was grinning.

...

George and Angelina took Charlie home the very next day, and the dog was quickly accepted into the large Weasley family. Even Mrs. Weasley couldn't resist his charms.

"You just bring him over here as much as you'd like, dears," she told George and Angelina. They were only too happy to take her up on her offer, as she could keep him company while they were at work.

"You know, George," Angelina said one night a few weeks later, "I can't even imagine our lives without Charlie now."

George smiled over at Charlie, who was snuggling with a stuffed panda on his very own top-of-the-line dog bed. "I can't either."


	27. Ferris Wheel Kiss: ride

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team):** Angelina Johnson/George Weasley (n/a)

**List (Prompt):** Fall Medium 2 (Ferris Wheel Moment)

**Word Count:** 449

* * *

**Ferris Wheel Kiss**

The funfair was packed. Angelina had never seen so many people in one place before. There were plenty of children and teenagers, but probably just as many adults. Her ears were assaulted by the myriad of sounds: screaming, electronic music, children crying, and various announcers, to name just a few. The smell of cooked meat and grease pervaded the air, making her stomach grumble. But what really excited and simultaneously overwhelmed her were the sights — the towering rides, the flashing neon lights, the food trucks. She wanted to look everywhere at once, and she wanted to _do_ everything at once, too.

She gripped George's hand tightly. The last thing she wanted was to lose him. There were so many brightly colored things around them that his hair didn't stand out as much as usual. "Where to first?" she asked.

George shrugged. "I dunno. I was thinking maybe we could start with the Ferris wheel?" He nodded over at the large, metal attraction.

"Oooh, good idea," Angelina said happily. "I've always wanted to kiss someone at the top of a Ferris wheel!"

Her boyfriend quirked an eyebrow. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out, you find another way to surprise me," he said, shaking his head.

She laughed and tugged at his hand. "Come _on!_"

...

There was a flock of people waiting at the base of the Ferris wheel, which meant that Angelina and George had to stand in the queue for a good twenty minutes. Angelina didn't mind, however. Time passed quickly when she had George's running commentary to distract her. Before long, they were climbing into one of the gondolas. George helped her up, and she felt her heart begin to race with anticipation.

"I'm so excited!" she whispered, clutching at his hand once more.

"Me too," he said, tracing his thumb up and down her hand.

Angelina smiled at him. This wasn't the usual noisy, center-of-attention George. This George was quieter, more sensitive. She liked this George just as much, if not more, than the one that everyone else was used to.

The gondola door slid closed. "Here we go," she breathed.

The ascent to the top lasted only a few minutes. As they inched closer and closer, Angelina turned to her boyfriend and took both of his hands in hers.

"Ready?" George murmured.

She nodded. Seconds before they reached the peak, she leaned over and kissed him. He wove his fingers through her hair and pulled her even closer. When they broke apart moments later, she was smiling broadly. "Thank you, George. That was magical."

He hummed in agreement, and the two didn't stop smiling at each other the whole way down.


	28. i know who i am now (i am yours)

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team): **Angelina Johnson/George Weasley

**List (Prompt): **Spring Big List (First Kiss)

**Word Count: **1,236

* * *

**i know who i am now (i am yours)**

George hated being stuck at the Burrow. Sure, he had to recuperate after having his ear cursed off — he understood that — but he was just so _bored_. After nearly a month, he was positively itching to leave the house.

His mum popped her head into the doorway of the sitting room and smiled at the sight of George sprawled out on the couch. "George, dear, would you like me to make anything special for dinner tonight?" she asked for what felt like the millionth time.

"No!" George wanted to shout. "I'm not on my deathbed, Mum. I just want to be treated like everyone else!" Instead, he said, "No thanks, Mum."

"All right, well, you just let me know if you change your mind!" she said, puttering away.

George sighed. His mum was the main reason he hadn't been out of the house in so long. He could understand why she was worried, but surely any after-effects of the curse he had been hit with would have revealed themselves by now?

He didn't even have his twin to keep him company most days. Fred was too busy trying to keep the shop afloat by himself. George felt bad that so much of the workload had fallen to his brother, but he knew that Fred didn't hold it against him at all. He supposed he should be glad that the shop was doing well. Still, he would have enjoyed the steady entertainment Fred would have brought him as he lay on the rather shabby millefleur couch day after day.

A short while later, his wish for companionship was unexpectedly granted. "George, dear, there's someone here to see you!" his mum said brightly, appearing in the doorway once more.

George propped himself up on a couch cushion, eager but puzzled. He hadn't been expecting anyone, as far as he could remember. Sometimes Lee dropped by, but his mum would have specified his name if it was just him. And from the way his mum was grinning, George had the feeling this someone was a girl. "Well?" he demanded. "Who is it?"

His mum stepped aside, revealing one Angelina Johnson. George's throat went dry. Angelina looked every bit the bombshell that he remembered, even dressed as she was in a casual violet top and Muggle jeans.

"Hi, George," his former teammate said hesitantly.

"Angie!" George managed to exclaim. "Blimey, it's good to see you."

His mum shot him a significant look and said something about attending to some laundry. Once she had left, Angelina crossed to George and sank onto the couch next to him. "How are you?" she asked, her eyes immediately going to the wound on his head.

George frowned. She sounded worried — too worried. And she wasn't being her usual outgoing self, either. This Angelina seemed timid, like she was walking on eggshells around him. In short, she was acting like everyone else did nowadays.

"I'm fine," he answered, turning his head slightly in the hopes that she would stop staring at his injury. Angelina didn't say anything, she merely continued to look at him with a vaguely pitying look on her face. "Merlin, Angie, it's not like you to be this quiet."

She chuckled weakly. "I'm sorry, I just...I don't know how to act, I guess."

He reached for her hand and was glad when she didn't pull away. "I know it's weird, but you'll get used to it, I promise. I'm still the same old George, just a little different, ear-wise."

Angelina giggled. "I'm glad to hear it."

...

Angelina stayed for several hours, for which George was immensely grateful. Once she had gotten over her anxiety, she reverted back to being the fun-loving girl he remembered from Hogwarts. Time flew by quickly, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much.

"I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're here, Angie," he said suddenly.

She paused mid-laugh. "What do you mean?"

"I can only stand Lee's mug so many days a week, you know?" he joked.

"Oh." George wondered if he was mishearing a note of disappointment in her voice, and scrambled to think of something else to say.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner, if you want. I'm sure my mum would be delighted—"

"Thanks, George, but I should be going."

He felt his chest tighten. He definitely wasn't imagining how flat her voice had gotten. "Angie, is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. "Of course not."

He raised an eyebrow at her. Even though they weren't as close as they used to be, he could still tell when she was lying. Right now, there was no doubt in his mind — she wasn't being honest with him.

"Hey, talk to me," he said softly. "What's going on?"

She shook her head. "It's stupid. It was stupid of me to even think that you—" She cut herself off and stared at the floor.

George tried to take her hand again, but she wouldn't let him this time. He fell back against the couch cushions, utterly confused. "Think that I _what_?"

"I...no, I'm not doing this," she said, getting to her feet. "Tell your mum it was nice to see her."

"But—"

"Goodbye, George."

George didn't know what possessed him to do it. One minute, he had been reclining on the sofa — the next, he was standing and grabbing Angelina's arm. She gasped, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," he said, "but you can't just leave like this, Angie."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Let go of me, George."

"Not until you tell me what I did to upset you. Please," he pleaded. "I need to know."

She seemed to decide something then, for she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye for the first time in several minutes. "I had hoped you might be interested in something more, that's all."

"Something more?" he repeated.

"Like, more than friends." She tugged at one of her braids. "I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud—"

George was so relieved to finally understand what was going on that he began to laugh. "Angie, are you trying to say that you _fancy _me?"

Despite Angelina's dark skin, George could tell that she was blushing furiously. "Yes, you complete and utter _prat_, I am!" she huffed.

"Well, you could have just said so," George grinned. He leaned in and kissed her gently, testing out the waters. He had dreamed of doing this, but hadn't wanted to risk their close friendship. She responded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Soon, they were snogging so passionately that George forgot where he was, and neither of them heard his mum re-enter the room.

"Good heavens!" she sputtered, causing Angelina and George to spring apart. "George, dear, I'm really not sure if you've healed enough for such...vigorous activity."

He stifled a laugh at his mum's euphemism and tried his best to look contrite. "Sorry, Mum. Got carried away. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she said sternly, but she gave Angelina an approving look over her shoulder as she walked away.

"So...can I come by again tomorrow?" Angelina asked at last. She still looked embarrassed, but an amused smirk had appeared on her face.

George pulled her in for a quick peck on the lips. "Absolutely."


	29. Ticklish: catch

_Written for Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments, Term 11, Assignment 9:_ _**Beauty Therapy, Task #4 - Pedicure: write about someone being tickled.**_

**MC4A**

**Ship (Team): **Angelina Johnson/George Weasley

**List (Prompt): **Summer Big List (laughing)

**Word Count: **422

* * *

**Ticklish**

"George!" Angelina shrieked, her voice high and slightly desperate. Her braids were splayed out around her head, and her chest was heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. "George, stop, please, I can't breathe!"

George had pinned her down on the bed and was tickling her ruthlessly, unable to believe that ghosting his fingers along her sides would cause her to dissolve into such raucous giggles. How, in all these years of knowing her, had he never tried to tickle her before?

He smiled mischievously at his girlfriend. "It seems to me that if you can talk, you can breathe," he said, but she had asked him to stop, so he stilled his movements nonetheless. "Merlin, Angie, I never pegged you for the ticklish sort."

"I try not to advertise it," she panted, trying to squirm out from under him. Her knee connected with his chest as she did so, and she let out a gasp. "Oh, George, I am so sorry!"

"It's fine," he chuckled, settling back against the headboard. "I reckon I deserved that."

"I'd say so," Angelina said, sitting up and narrowing her eyes in his direction. "This isn't exactly how I planned to spend my Saturday morning, you know."

"It isn't?" George asked innocently. "You ought to be a little more imaginative, then, Angie—"

He never finished his sentence, for Angelina had swooped in and begun to tickle _him_. Though her touch was as light as a feather, he couldn't stop a hearty guffaw from escaping his lips. Before long, he found himself wishing he could roll away, but his girlfriend was preventing him from doing so by sitting on his legs. "_Argh_! Is it too late to beg for mercy?"

Angelina laughed. "Luckily for you, I am merciful." She moved herself off his legs and flopped down beside him, brushing the braids away from her face. "So, you're ticklish too, huh?"

"I try not to advertise it," he echoed with a wry grin.

Angelina nudged him playfully. "Why do I feel like I've heard those words before?"

George propped himself up on his elbow — a moment later, Angelina did the same. "Maybe because they were first uttered by my very clever, very beautiful girlfriend?" He reached out with his free hand and began tracing a circle onto her cheek with his thumb.

"You're such a flirt, George Weasley," Angelina said teasingly, putting her hand on top of his.

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Only with you, love. Only with you."

* * *

_A/N: *breaks into song* One more dawn, one more day, oooooone dayyyyy moooooore!_


	30. Apple Picking and I Love Yous: ripe

**MC4A**

**Fall Bingo**

**Space Address (Prompt):** A1 (Harvest)

**Word Count:** 514

* * *

**Apple Picking and I Love Yous**

Leaves crunched underfoot as Angelina and George made their way towards the orchard. Vibrant leaves in every shade of red, orange, and yellow imaginable were scattered around on the ground like loose change.

"Forget about picking apples," Angelina sighed. "I just want to take in these beautiful sights."

George smiled at her. "That would rather defeat the purpose of our being here, wouldn't it, love?"

She hooked her arm through his and laughed. "Yeah. But we should definitely take some time to admire all this natural beauty."

"I'd rather admire _your_ natural beauty," her boyfriend teased, eliciting a faint blush from her.

"Oh, shut it, George," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Silence fell between them, but Angelina didn't mind. She was captivated by her surroundings, by every gust of wind that swirled the leafy carpet, and by the apple trees that rose out of the ground, strong and sure. For all his teasing, George seemed equally enchanted.

The pair finally reached the grove of trees, where George conjured a small ladder and a wicker basket. He gestured to the ladder.

"Would you like to have the honor of going first?" he asked.

Angelina grinned. "You bet."

…

Harvesting the apples was fun once they fell into a rhythm. Angelina would reach for a ripe fruit, pluck it from its branch, and toss it to George, who would then place it carefully in their basket atop the ever-growing pile of shiny red apples. Soon, her boyfriend took it upon himself to try and catch the apples in the most bizarre ways he could think of — with his eyes closed, with his back to her, while lying on the ground. After a while, Angelina was laughing so hard that she couldn't throw properly.

"George," she gasped, wiping her eyes, "you look so ridiculous."

"Do I?" he said innocently, batting his eyelashes at her in an exaggerated fashion.

"Yes," she giggled, stepping off the ladder to punch his arm. "At this rate, we're not going to collect as many apples as we'd thought."

"But at least we had fun, right?" George tucked a braid behind her ear and smiled warmly at her. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she grinned back. This felt like the perfect time to tell him how strong her feelings for him had become—they were alone in a beautiful orchard and she had never felt so in love with the redhead.

"Yeah," she said, reaching for his hands. "I always have fun with you."

"I always have fun with you, too," he replied.

Angelina took a deep breath and willed herself to look back into his eyes. "I love you, George," she whispered.

George's eyes widened slightly, but his smile grew even more broad. "I love you too, Angie."

She leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow. A moment later, she let out a contented sigh as his arms wrapped around her. "This is where I belong," she murmured. "Right here in your arms."

"I'll never let you go," George promised, squeezing her tighter still. "_Never_."

* * *

_Finally done! What a joy it was to write about these two for...well, two months, really. :)_


End file.
